Anathema I Will Remain
by Solain Rhyo
Summary: Her assasination attempt on Sephiroth having failed, she must now discover what exactly it will take to destroy the General, and avoid Hojo's minions along the way ...
1. I

**.1.**

Thaddeus Reno, known to the rest of the world simply as Reno, was on assignment. He stood at the corner of Eighth and West Main, leaning with a casual arrogance against the mortared brick wall of a small and crowded pub. Bathed in the dirty wash of light from an overhead street lamp, he held loosely in one hand a smoking cigarette. His other hand was in his pocket, toying with a switchblade no one else could see. Clad in a wrinkled business suit, jacket carelessly unbuttoned and hanging loose, he seemed like many others in this run-down district of Midgar: an ordinary man looking for a good time. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, he allowed himself a slight smile. Truth was, he _was_ looking for a good time … but there was nothing ordinary about him.

"Any plans for the evening, Red?" A nearby voice drawled. Reno turned his head to find a bombshell of a woman standing a few feet away. If there were any doubts as to her occupation, her attire assuaged them immediately. Her voluptuous form was encased in a tight, glossy red shell of PVC that covered –barely- the parts that decency required be covered. She came closer, walking with an aggressive strut on black knee length stiletto boots; Reno watched her approach, smile never fading. He may be on duty, but that didn't mean he couldn't take some time to appreciate the view. As she came to a halt an arms length away, he replied to her question, "Yes."

At the answer, her full crimson lips turned into a pout, and watching with rapt attention he added, "Unfortunately."

That earned him a smile, and with a flick of her head she tossed her layered mass of blonde hair over her shoulders. She sidled closer in order to run one long violet fingernail lasciviously across his shoulder. Blinking her large, heavily lined brown eyes up at him, she whispered conspiratorially, "You've got time for something quick, don't you?"

Shifting his weight to reduce the burgeoning stress in certain areas of his anatomy, Reno said, "Not really."

"Ah, come on …" She'd moved in front of him now, and her hand, shielded by her body, had slowly and purposefully found it's way to the aforementioned area of his groin. Flexing her hand, she smiled as he gasped quietly. She continued, "You'll never have anything quite like me, Red."

Unable to think for the magic her hand was working, Reno opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Shuddering, he dropped his cigarette and pushed her away. "Alright," he said breathlessly, "but we've got to make it quick."

"Your wish," she purred, sliding one long finger into her mouth and withdrawing it slowly, the moisture encompassing it gleaming in the light from the lamp above, "is my command."

Coherent thought fled, and as she strode confidentially into the beckoning shadows of the alley, he followed quickly after.

The only sounds in the alley soon after were those of pleasure; the grunts and moans of Reno and the breathy sighs of the prostitute. Sex in an alley was never romantic; Reno braced the woman against his own body and pressed her against the wall. It was an animalistic position, and one that apparently brought great pleasure to both. So involved were the two of them that they didn't realize they had company. At the mouth of the alley, just beyond the reach of illumination from the street lamps, a woman stood, observing silently. She didn't stir as Reno shouted exuberantly, _"Yes!"_, nor did she move as he entangled himself from the prostitute, who in turn took a moment to close a zipper in a rather intimate area of her cat suit. Reno dug from his pocket a wad of cash and gave it to her; she pecked him on the cheek with a whispered compliment that made him chuckle before turning to leave.

And thus came face to face with the observer.

The prostitute gasped, and then said angrily, "What the hell? You been watching the whole time?"

A smile, unseen for the shadows, crossed the observers face, and she nodded. "Yes."

The prostitute eyed the other suspiciously, and then with a snort brushed by her. "Pervert," she muttered as she passed.

Reno, hurriedly refastening his pants, strode to the mouth of the alley. "What kind of creep stands there and watches—"

The observer moved back a step, into the light, and Reno's expression altered from anger to unease. "Oh."

The woman was not tall; she came to Reno's shoulder, and her body was cloaked entirely by a dark, flared coat that fell to her feet. Her hair, chestnut in color, fell over one shoulder in a long, thick braid. Evergreen eyes set beneath arched brows regarded Reno serenely. She seemed delicate and fragile, but Reno knew she was anything but.

"What do you want?" he demanded, striding past her, careful never to present her with his back.

"To watch you fornicate, obviously." She replied, following him and noting his caution with an amused expression.

"Cut the bullshit." Reno snapped, digging another cigarette out of his pocket and then fishing for a lighter.

"Allow me," the woman said, and placed the tip of her finger upon the cigarette. And instant later a small flame went up; as the woman let fall her hand Reno gaped at her over the rising smoke. Struggling to maintain a cool composure, Reno took a drag and said again with makeshift calm, "What do you want?"

"I want you," she said quietly, watching him steadily with unnerving, unblinking eyes, "to tell me some things."

Reno swallowed; he knew this woman, most in his line of work did. She was one of the wild cards; a hunter who worked for employers both unknown and highly speculated about. Her reputation was much the same; no one knew fact from fiction but the same was said every time; she was ruthless, she was tireless, and she was ceaseless in her pursuit. Several times she'd come to the Turks for information, and every time she'd received it, for who knew more about the seedy underbelly of the cesspool that was Midgar than the Turks? Reno himself had spoken to her before, but there was something different this time, something in her eyes that told him this encounter could go the way of unpleasant. With all this in mind, he asked slowly, "What kind of things?"

"I need a location for someone."

"Ah." Reno took another huff, glancing away from the woman to survey the street. Thankfully, his contact hadn't made an appearance yet. "And this someone would be …?"

"Sephiroth."

He choked on his next drag; he couldn't help it. This was something he couldn't tell her, this was something classified … and besides, Sephiroth was legendary, with power enough to rival a god, or so the rumors said. He'd only caught a glimpse of the pale haired General once, in ShinRa headquarters, and even that split second had been enough to create the impression that you simply did not fuck with Sephiroth. When Reno had gained enough breath to speak adequately, he wheezed, "Are you out of your goddamn mind, Aeris?"

Perhaps it was the use of her name, seldom said for reasons obvious that persuaded her to become absolutely still. She stared at him, eyes a glittering mirror that reflected his own harried visage back at him. Unnerved and feeling a little edgy, Reno hastily went on, "You do know that he's the General of ShinRa's forces, right? And that he's amazingly, insanely powerful? And that he's almost impossible to get to?"

She nodded, her face an impenetrable mask. "Yes."

Reno shook his head. "You _are_ crazy."

A sigh escaped her then, a slight sound, but enough to let him know she was becoming impatient. "Reno." She said quietly, "Tell me how to find him."

"No goddamn way." He shook his head again, wildly. If he told her, and she went on her insane mission and failed, Sephiroth would want to know who sold him out, and he did not want _that _coming after him.

"Reno." She said again, and there was a cold certainty in her tone that let him know that to deny her this would mean pain. "Tell me. Now."

"No," Reno spat, and in a blur of movement he dropped his cigarette and lashed out at her. His fist connected solidly with her jaw; as her head snapped back he followed through with a kick to the midsection. She went down heavily, stumbling into the street, and then Reno was running. He didn't want to take her on out in the open; he wanted to be somewhere safe, somewhere familiar, where he knew every crook and cranny. Her reputation as a fighter was ferocious, and he _so_ did not want to get his ass kicked by a girl. Besides, Turk was synonymous with badass; if he lost, how would he ever live it down? He bolted past the pub, past another bar, past the crowd gathered outside. He shoved and pushed without discrimination to get through them; angry cries followed him as he swept around a corner into another alley. This one was well lit, however, by the lights attached to the wall. It was empty but for the dumpster in the far corner. Three doors attached to three buildings, and as he drew to a halt Reno smiled.

All three doors led to a building held by the Turks.

"Come on, you whore," He muttered, eager for a fight now that he was certain his ass was covered. He was in the middle of turning to face the alley mouth when a sound rang out. His brain registered it as a gunshot an instant before pain ripped through his leg; in stunned realization he looked up to find Aeris standing still in the street, an automatic pistol in hand. He then looked down to find that his right knee was now a bleeding red ruin; she had shot his knee joint out. Searing agony swept through him, and unable to stand for the intensity of it all he crumpled to the ground.

"_Bitch!_" He screamed as he clutched at his wound. He heard her footsteps drawing nearer, and he rolled his eyes back to see her looming above him.

"Tell me what I want to know, Reno." She said gently, crouching by his side. His eyes focused through a tortured haze on the grey pistol she held, acutely aware of the fact that she hadn't put it away.

"Fuck you," Reno gasped, rocking unconsciously back and forth in an attempt to alleviate the agony of his shattered knee.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" She said, her voice friendly. "Please tell me, Reno. I don't want to hurt you more."

"B-Bullshit," he spat.

Her answering smile wasn't pleasant. Very deliberately she laid the muzzle of her gun against his other, whole knee. "Tell me. Or you can discover the wonder of the wheelchair."

"Bitch," He moved his hand from his knee and raised it; blood dripped heavily from his fingers. The look he cast her now was desperate. "I-I can't just tell you …"

He knew it was the wrong answer. He saw the shadow slide behind her eyes and knew that she was going to shoot him—just like that—again. He closed his own eyes tightly against what he knew was coming—

"I can tell you." Another voice interjected, and the weight of the gun was lifted away from his leg. Breathing a silent prayer, Reno opened his eyes to find his superior watching from one of the three doorways.

"T-Tseng," he gasped, trying as best he could to scuttle away from Aeris, "I couldn't tell her—"

"Be quiet, Reno." Tseng said, and the authority in those three words was sharp enough to bleed by.

"But, she wanted to know—"

"I know what she wants to know." Tseng was moving, striding towards them both. He was attired similar to Reno, except that his clothes were impeccable. His fall of glossy black hair was draped over his shoulders and down his chest, and his dark eyes were inscrutable as he regarded them both. "And I told you before, Reno, that you are always to give her the information she wants."

Reno opened his mouth to reply, but one glance from those ebony eyes silenced him. Tseng continued, "We have nothing to fear from Sephiroth."

Racked by agony and still clutching his wound, Reno whispered, "We do if she fails."

"I won't fail." This came from Aeris, who had risen upon Tseng's approach. She slid the pistol into a holster slung low across her hips, and drew her long coat closed again.

"Indeed." Tseng said. "Which is why I say to you this: Sephiroth is in Nibelheim, and will be for quite some time. There seems to be a problem with the reactors there; they are producing powerful monstrosities, and the General is needed to deal with them."

"Thank you, Tseng." Aeris said. She glanced down at Reno, sitting in a growing pool of blood and glaring at her with the utmost hatred. "I am sorry, Reno."

"Bullshit."

"Yes." She said. With a smile in Tseng's direction, she turned and left the alley. Tseng watched her go, a speculative gleam in his eyes. When she had passed beyond his vision he turned to Reno with a disgusted sigh. "Idiot. You've ruined another suit." He cut off Reno's heated response with a wave of his hand. "I don't want to hear it. I'll send Rude and Elena out to bring you in."

"That bitch," Reno whispered as Tseng left through the door he had entered from. His leg was numb now, and he was feeling rather faint. "I'll fucking kill her."


	2. II

**.2.**

Standing where he was, before an enormous window on the thirtieth floor of ShinRa Inc. headquarters, Tseng could see Midgar in its entirety. The scene was almost surreal; a landscape of lights which twinkled and glowed as though they were distant stars. This was the way he preferred Midgar: at night, in the dark, with nothing to see but the false beauty of its illumination. Too familiar was he with the truth behind the façade—the corruption, the power struggles, the cesspool of degenerate society that ever haunted this place. Behind him there was suddenly a noise, a throat cleared expectantly, and Tseng gazed upon the city one last time before turning around to face his employer.

Rufus ShinRa sat behind his desk, hands clasped before him, clad as always in an ivory suit tailored perfectly to his frame. Tseng approached and lowered himself into a chair on the other side of the desk. He took a moment to study his superior before speaking. Rufus was young, highly ambitious, and possessed a considerable amount of cunning. He in no way resembled his father, the corpulent, pompous, and merciless president of the massive ShinRa empire. There was no love lost between father and son; indeed, it was publicly known that they despised each other. That aside, President ShinRa had seen it fit to place his son at his side, and had named Rufus Vice President of ShinRaIncorporated. Five years had passed since Rufus came to office, and it was four years ago that the Turks had been created.

The Turks themselves were Rufus' private strike force; an elite group of hitmen that, with the power of ShinRa backing them, had full access to most any place on earth. Rufus himself had hand-picked the two original Turks; from the deadly and cutthroat sub-society of mercenaries and bounty hunters he had found Zhao Tseng, and located Drake Rude through his rising notoriety in the news as violent and murderous prison escapee. Both of them had shown a certain sort of integrity, however misplaced, that had been precisely what Rufus was looking for. Tseng had been cautious when approached by the Vice President, but quickly warmed to Rufus' proposal. Rude had accepted immediately, for by doing so he lost all traces of a criminal record and could do legally what it was he loved to do: raise hell. And so it was the Turks had been born.

Rufus had appointed Tseng as leader, recognizing the shrewd intellect and fierce dominance housed within the Wutain's quiet, subdued form. Rude initially had an issue with this decision, and had challenged Tseng to a fight for authority. It was over in a matter of minutes, and from that point onwards Rude swore absolute obedience to Tseng. Having been established, the Turks were now in need of recruitment, and Rufus gave Tseng the power to choose whoever he saw fit. Tseng and Rude combed Midgar from top plate to the seedy underbelly, and occasionally ventured outside city limits. Anyone they thought showed promise was taken—willingly or not—to a small, rundown warehouse which, at that time, served as Turk headquarters. These "applicants" were put through a number of trials which tested their strength, intelligence, prowess, and most importantly, their ruthless nature. Their standards were high, and almost all of those they chose for these trials failed; failure meant certain execution by Rufus' decree. Almost one year after the birth of the Turks, Rude and Tseng encountered a young street ruffian putting up the fight of his life against Midgar law enforcement. Tseng had intervened, claiming it was official ShinRa business, and the police had stepped aside. The ruffian was young, almost too young, tall and lean and vehemently belligerent. He fought like a cornered hellcat, and seemed for the most part to have no fear. He was taken back to the warehouse, struggling viciously the entire way, and upon arriving there he promptly attacked the two Turks in a furious rage. He was subdued easily, beaten within an inch of his life, and the very next day the ruffian—Thaddeus Reno—became the third member of the Turks.

The fourth member they located not long after; she was a pretty and petite blonde woman who served as an enforcer for an organized crime syndicate that had networked throughout the middle continent. Police had finally gotten tabs on their main location and had raided; hearing of this, and thinking it to be a prime recruiting opportunity, Tseng had tagged along. He witnessed first hand the woman steadfastly gunning down several cops with an air of detached calm. When finally they'd managed to subdue her and the rest of her mob associates, Tseng asserted the power given to him by ShinRa once again and whisked her away. There were to be no trials on her behalf; as Tseng explained the Turks' purpose he saw in her eyes an eager and determined acceptance of her fate. And so it was that day that Elena Meredith Desco became a Turk, and it was that day that the Turks themselves became a whole.

Forcing his reminiscent thoughts aside, aware of Rufus' growing impatience, Tseng said, "I have good news."

Rufus arched one brow, and it was lost in the disheveled fall of his copper hair across his forehead. "And that news would be?"

"Aeris was in town today. She came to Reno for some information." Tseng paused, watching his employer closely. "She was looking for Sephiroth."

For a moment, all was silent. Rufus sighed then, a slow exhale of relief and satisfaction. He said, "And I'm assuming she was told his location?"

Tseng shook his head. "Not at first. Reno wouldn't tell her."

The Vice President's vibrant blue eyes narrowed in sudden displeasure. "Reno is dead, then?"

"No." Tseng said again. "I found them before she could kill him, and I told her what she wanted to know. She will be heading for Nibelheim now."

"Excellent." Rufus said, and a slow smile spread across his face. "For so long, I've been trying to find a way to remove that man … and the answer just fell into my lap." His expression sobered then as thoughts unwanted passed behind his eyes. "Do you think she can do it?"

Tseng did not hesitate in replying. "I do."

Rufus nodded. "Good. Her reputation is impressive … if it is to be believed. Should she succeed, father will have lost his figurehead. And without Sephiroth to come to his defense … I will finally replace that blustering fool. With the Turks at my side, Scarlet and Heidigger won't dare oppose me. Reeve, though … Reeve may give us some grief. And that is unfortunate, because I genuinely like Reeve."

"Perhaps he can be made to see reason?" Tseng offered.

"Perhaps." Rufus stood and began to pace, eyes aglow, fervently dreaming, Tseng knew, of the completion of the plan he had held onto for so long. "Good news, indeed, Tseng. But … what if she should fail? Will Sephiroth know who sold him out?"

"I don't think she will fail, sir."

Rufus turned to regard the Turk with a shrewd, speculative gaze. "You have great faith in her abilities."

"You forget," Tseng replied, "that I have seen her in action."

"Ah yes. In Wutai. She decimated the entire ruling family while you where there on _official_ business … and you made no move to stop her, did you?"

"My ties to Wutai are long severed." Tseng replied in a tight voice, and though there was something slightly bitter within those words, to anyone unfamiliar with him it was barely noticeable.

"Yes." Rufus said. "And fortunate that is; I wouldn't have found you otherwise." The Vice President turned to stare out window. "Thank you for coming to me with this, Tseng. But tell me—if Aeris did not kill Reno, what did she do to him?"

"Shot him. Shattered his kneecap."

"Crude, but effective." Rufus remarked. "Will Reno recover?"

"In time, yes. He will be undergoing surgery come morning; they will give him an artificial joint, and he'll be hobbled for a few weeks."

"He is at times incompetent, Tseng."

"And for that I apologize, sir."

"No need. I trust your judgement. He's useful. Now," Rufus said abruptly, "I must leave for a meeting. Scarlet has some plans she wants approved for the new weapons project."

Tseng stood, inclining his head slightly in deference as he did so. "One more thing—did you want me to send someone to Nibelheim, to monitor the process?"

"Yes, that's an excellent idea. Send Elena." Rufus had returned to his desk, sitting again, and was rifling through a myriad of papers on the surface. He paused and raised his head. "No … Elena can remain. I want you to go."

Mildly surprised, but managing not to show it, Tseng nodded. "Very well. I'll leave first thing in the morning."

"Do so." Rufus replied, again looking through the papers, and Tseng took his words as a dismissal.

Minutes later, leaning against the side of the elevator made entirely of glass, Tseng mused on his new assignment. He wasn't adverse to field work; in fact, he quite enjoyed a change in scenery from time to time. He knew why Rufus was sending him; should Aeris fail in assassinating Sephiroth, he wanted someone there to finish the job. And while the thought of facing the legendary General was enough to unnerve even Tseng, he pushed it aside. As he'd said earlier, he had seen the bounty hunter at work, and he knew what she could do.

A slight, admiring smile curved his lips. She would succeed; therefore this little excursion could be seen as nothing more than a well deserved vacation.

**.x.**

_Nibelheim._

She hadn't been there for awhile, almost a year, by her reckoning. It was a picturesque little town, with cobblestone streets and quaint houses, and the ShinRa mansion looming over it all. The point of interest, she knew, wasn't in the town itself. It lay high in the slopes of Mount Nibel, sucking from its depths the very blood of life like some sort of mechanized parasite. But other secrets lurked in Nibelheim … secrets she knew well.

After her encounter with Reno and Tseng, she had returned to the tiny and cramped hovel that passed as an excuse for a hotel in the lower levels of Midgar. She'd been staying here for several nights, combing the city, questioning indiscriminately whomever she came across for information on Sephiroth. Her knowledge of him was already vast; it had to be, for he was ultimately the target she'd been training for for most of her life. Rumors and hearsay, however, often contained altered fact, and it was for that reason she had remained so long in this city she detested. Only one more night, she thought with a sense of satisfaction, and then she would be free of this hellish mass of civilization.

She was lying on the single bed shoved into the corner of the cramped hotel room, one arm cast across her face, the other at her side. Her coat she had hung off the corner of the sole chair occupying the room, and her shoulder and hip holsters she had laid on the bed beside her. She had removed the spine sheath; it was too uncomfortable to sleep with, and the ten inch blade it held wouldn't be her first choice of weapons should someone barge through the door in the middle of the night anyways. She hadn't bothered undressing; she would sleep clad still in the form-fitting, dark pliable leather clothing she was so accustomed to wearing. It didn't make noise, it was highly durable, and the color did not draw attention—thus it fulfilled all the requirements for the life she led. Along with her clothing, she had left her other weapons intact upon her person; there was a thin garrotte woven intricately into the collar of her shirt, and along the inside of each arm a throwing knife was sheathed. Strapped to the outer thigh of her left leg was another blade, six inch, perfect for stabbing, and that completed her arsenal. She had other weapons, of course: a double barreled tactical shotgun, a variation of a military sniper rifle, and four other automatic handguns. The knives were last resorts; she preferred to eliminate her targets from a distance if at all possible.

With Sephiroth, however …

She sighed, turning onto her side facing the door and pillowing her head on one arm. Her eyes were open, and they were slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room, and soon the lurid glow of the neon signs outside her window seeped through filthy and tattered curtains. She stared into nothingness for a long while, willing herself to sleep, willing the voices she heard constantly to cease their orders, cease their yammering, and simply let her be. But they wouldn't, they never did, and they were excited now. She was close, so close, to total absolution; would they be silenced, she wondered, when it was all over? She fervently hoped so. Sephiroth's death would mean one chapter of her life was over, and another was to begin. And oh, how she looked forward to what the next would offer …

_You have to kill him first_, an insidious part of her mind interjected.

Her lips thinned, and resolutely she closed her eyes. She wouldn't fail; she never did. And when he was dead …

Sleep claimed her then, and as she drifted away, a faint smile curved her lips.


	3. III

**.3.**

Early morning found Aeris seated in a secluded booth on the Trans-Continental train, which made daily sojourns throughout the middle continent and connected all urban and rural areas together. The railway was the brainchild of ShinRa Inc., and was unsurprisingly popular. Using public transportation required a certain level of discretion, and so it was that Aeris had boarded the train clad in a long pink dress, red jacket, and a pair large and ugly brown boots she had bought for 2 gil from a homeless woman the night previous. Her other clothing and her weapons (which had been painstakingly disassembled) were stowed within a large blue suitcase which lay above her now in the storage rack. She wasn't entirely unarmed, however; in the small breast pocket of her jacket a derringer was stored, and laid across the seat opposite her was a long metal walking staff.

The train left Midgar at precisely 7:00 am. Aeris watched through the window as the scenery changed; the dark, intricate metal mass of the city slowly gave way to the growing glow of dawn as it broke over the rest of the world. Once they were free entirely of Midgar, Aeris sighed deeply. Free from constraints, free from interference, her senses returned to her full force. Never did she realize how much she depended on them until they were dampened by the overwhelming, teeming centers of civilization. She closed her eyes, allowing herself finally to be flooded with the soothing calm and reassurance of her mentors …

"Good morning."

She re-opened her eyes slowly, turning her head to find Tseng standing in the door of her compartment. He looked as he always did, dressed in his professional navy suit and his ebony hair falling loose around his shoulders. She gave him a perfunctory nod. "Hello, Tseng. Heading for Nibelheim?"

He had the grace to look slightly abashed. "Yes. By orders only."

She smiled at that. "I have heard of Rufus' designs on Sephiroth. You will be there to ensure that I complete what I mean to do."

"I have no doubts you will be successful."

"But Rufus does?"

"Not doubts. Uncertainties."

Aeris snorted softly. "They are the same thing, Tseng."

"Perhaps," The Turk said with his own smile. "As it is, I will consider this strictly a vacation. But should you require aid …"

All signs of pleasantness faded from her eyes then to be replaced with something cold, something certain. "I won't."

Tseng nodded, face suddenly impassive, a similar light in his own gaze. "I know. But I had to offer. Enjoy the rest of the ride, Aeris. Perhaps we shall run into each other in Nibelheim."

She gave him a brief ghost of a smile as he turned and departed before returning her attention to the passing scenery. She was unsurprised that Rufus had sent Tseng; she had expected as much. Of all the Turks, she liked Tseng best. Rude was undeniably powerful, but lacked the sharp intelligence and mind for tactics that his leader possessed. Elena, because of her callous, icy demeanour, was not to be taken lightly, but she didn't have the indescribable edge that Tseng held. And Reno … Aeris smiled. Reno was controlled rage in motion; volatile, unpredictable, and altogether rather unpleasant to trifle with. The uppercut he'd landed on her the night previous was proof of that, and she would have been lying if she denied the fact that she'd enjoyed giving him her payback. Such was life. Reno would heal, and he would carry a grudge, and inevitably somewhere down the road he would try and exact revenge. When it happened, she wouldn't kill him. But she would make him regret it.

A pleasant baritone came over the compartment speaker. _"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is now 7:20 am, and our estimated time of arrival in Nibelheim is six hours. Please enjoy your ride." _

Aeris removed the derringer from her pocket. It was small enough that she could close her hand over it completely, hiding it from view. She wanted it ready should something unpleasant decide to ruin her travel, and so she laid both hands in her lap and leaned her head against the window. Sifting through the thoughts and voices which roiled within her mind that weren't her own, she began to strategize, to estimate, to plan.

Six hours was a long time. She would have something plausible formed by then.

**.x.**

Two train cars away, Tseng was idly scanning the _Midgar Times_ while reflecting on the bounty hunter he had just spoken to. She fascinated him, intrigued him, and unnerved him on many different levels. The first time he'd seen her had been in Wutai, on that day that so much had changed. He'd been sent there by Rufus to secure a treaty from the ruler, Lord Godo, allowing ShinRa to begin mining the nearby mountains for Mako. Rufus knew that it was a difficult, if not nearly impossible assignment; he knew that Zhao Tseng was in fact the second cousin of Godo, and that he had left Wutai in poor standing. It was a trial, for the Turks at that point were still a fledging organization, and Rufus was testing the waters with them. And so Tseng had gone willingly back to the land where he was reviled and despised. He had expected neither acceptance, nor forgiveness for his past transgressions; not many would forget that Zhao Tseng, member of the ruling family, had assassinated one of his own for money. The man he had killed was a minister of minor importance and was in fact corrupt, but it was the concept most found abhorrent. Godo had exiled Tseng from Wutai, and Tseng, with no small amount of bitterness, had left. Drawn by the illicit promises and grandeur rumoured to haunt the mainland cities, he had drifted eastward.

He had left Wutai an empty and desperate man, stripped of his rank, his belongings, and his money. Midgar seemed the obvious destination, and through numerous means of transportation he made his way there. It seemed news of his betrayal had spread fast; it was not long after he settled within Midgar that he began to receive propositions. The money was good, too good for him to pass up; there was also something about performing executions that he found exhilarating. There were enough offers coming to him that he could afford to be choosy, and he turned down those he deemed to dangerous. It was not long before the name Tseng was associated with one of the most proficient assassins in the metropolis underworld.

And then Rufus had found him. Tseng knew a brilliant opportunity when he saw one, and so he accepted the Vice President's offer. He admired Rufus, admired his vision and his ambition, and thus it was he traveled to Wutai at Rufus' behest. The Wutains were either uneasy of their banished brethren, coming before them a changed man in intimidating, foreign clothing, or blatantly hostile. Godo, in a show of mercy and compassion, invited Tseng to meet with him and his heads of state in the ceremonial pagoda. Standing before Godo and the other government figures, Tseng was acutely aware of their disdain for him, and it incited his blood to fire. He repressed it and calmly went about his business, explaining the treaty and the benefits it would provide to the people of Wutai. When he had finished, Godo merely laughed with derision, proclaiming the treaty offer a foolish and hasty gesture on behalf of ShinRa. His laughter had died then, and he had leveled upon Tseng an intensely measuring gaze.

It was in that moment that Tseng knew he was about to die.

He'd drawn his gun, and even managed to get a shot off before they swarmed him. He'd fought as though he were possessed, and all the while Godo stood in the background and intoned that though Tseng had lost his honor in life, he would regain it in death. It was to be a ceremonial execution, Tseng realized, and as he lay there restrained, furious, and helpless, his eyes fell upon the small reed thin girl standing next to Godo and staring at him with disgust. It was his young cousin and Godo's daughter Yuffie; reading her expression then Tseng realized just exactly how far he'd fallen. He felt no remorse, only a burning fury at the righteousness the Wutains cloaked themselves with, always oblivious to the actual nature of the world. Godo had approached then bearing a sword, and Tseng had closed his eyes and bitterly resigned himself to his fate.

But it was not to be. All hell broke loose in the matter of seconds; numerous figures swathed all in black poured into the first floor of the pagoda, each carrying some manner of automatic rifles, and they had opened fire. In the chaos that ensued, Tseng watched in numb shock as people he had grown with, been friends with and had loved were gunned down with swift efficiency. Godo and the other masters of the pagoda launched a counter attack, attacking with the inhuman power and speed that had taken years for them to accumulate. Several of them fell to gunfire; Tseng watched, entranced as one of the black clad assassins dodged and whirled around Godo, avoiding his attacks with a deadly grace. Tseng couldn't see what the assassin did, but suddenly Godo staggered back and fell to his knees. And the lone assassin, seeming so much the same as the others but fairly radiating an exclusive power, produced a pistol and held it to his head. In the split second before she fired Tseng could see plainly the terror that flooded Godo's face, and at the sight he experienced a rush of his own righteous vindication. The assassin pulled the trigger, and blood spattered everywhere before the ruler of Wutai toppled over.

There was a piercing scream that cut through all the other commotion, and Tseng turned to see Yuffie lunging for the lone assassin, tears streaming down her face. And with a cold, detached determination Tseng withdrew his second handgun and shot Yuffie without hesitation square in the back. The girl teetered to a halt and spun around, blood blossoming vividly on the front of her kimono. She saw Tseng, saw his gun, and there was no longer disgust on her face as she collapsed slowly to the floor. There was only raw hatred, and at the sight of it he smiled viciously.

The assassin was moving again, firing with skilled precision into the survivors that swarmed about frantically attempting to gain the exit. When the last one had fallen, Tseng was the only person besides the assassins standing. One by one they left the pagoda, moving with quick and confident stealth; the last assassin removed its mask, and Tseng found himself face to face with Aeris. She began to explain to him in a quiet, unhurried voice what had just happened; Rufus had known this was a suicide mission but had wanted to test Tseng's mettle, and so he had sent along assassins to ensure Tseng's survival. With Godo and the rest of the ruling family dead, ShinRa no longer needed permission to mine the nearby mountains for Mako. As she spoke, it all made crystalline sense to Tseng, but he felt no fury at Rufus' deception. It was to be expected, after all.

Aeris had left then, and he had followed, departing from Wutai under the cover of night to avoid detection and setting sail back to the mainland on board a commercial freighter. Nothing was said between him and Rufus upon his return to Midgar, but between them there was a new respect, a newfound sense of trust. He encountered Aeris numerous times since then; her reputation grew steadily, and Rufus often hired her for jobs abroad. Never would Tseng forget what he had seen of her in Wutai, for he knew better than most how powerful the Wutains truly were. The ease with which she dispatched Godo awed him, and so when he told Rufus his faith in her abilities was unwavering, he was speaking the truth.

Sephiroth, however, could be an entirely different matter. He didn't know how much of the rumors surrounding the legendary General were fact and fiction, but he was willing to bet regardless of truth, Aeris was more than capable of handling him.

**.x.**

The sun was just reaching its zenith when Aeris, having just left the train, first set foot in the local Nibelheim inn. The common room wasn't crowded; here and there a table was occupied, and Aeris noted with some interest a booth were two blue uniformed members of SOLDIER sat talking quietly. Hefting her large suitcase with a strength that belied her delicate appearance, she approached the front desk in order to inquire about a room. The innkeeper, a portly, elderly balding man, squinted at her over wire rimmed glasses.

"Yes, we have rooms," he said in response to her question. "For how many?"

"Just one." She said. As he filled out the appropriate paperwork, Aeris darted another curious glance at the two officers seated in the corner of the common room. They had removed their masks; one was blonde and the other was dark haired. She wondered whether they were a part of Sephiroth's contingent, but her musings were interrupted by the innkeeper as he shoved a piece of paper and a pen at her.

"If you'll just sign here and here," He said, indicating the spaces with a pudgy finger, "I'll get you your key."

She took the pen from him and scrawled her name in the right spots. The innkeeper, watching as she did so, asked, "Are you here for business or pleasure?"

She handed the pen back at him with a smile, "Pleasure."

He nodded enthusiastically, "Ah, good, a tourist! There are so many nice places to visit around here—"

He halted mid-sentence, eyes focused on something behind her, and at that exact same moment Aeris felt a shudder claw its way up her spine. Quickly she turned, and found herself confronted by none other than Sephiroth.

It seemed rumor had held some truth, for he was in fact an impressive specimen. He towered over both her and the innkeeper, his solid and undeniably muscular form fairly radiating strength. He wore a thick black coat that fell to his feet, and over it there were attached several pieces of silver, polished armor. Rising up from behind his shoulder she caught glimpse of a sword scabbard and pommel, and a large leather buckled strap was just visible crossing his chest beneath the collar of his coat. Falling in a thick, straight mass over his shoulder was a length of remarkable snowy hair. Arrogance was strongly evident in the strong and severe lines of his face, and he watched her idly out of green eyes that glowed unnaturally in a manner the moon would envy.

Seeing him, _feeling_ him, caused the voices coiled within her to erupt in cacophonous disharmony, and with great and forcible effort she calmed them. Turning her back on the General, she spoke to the innkeeper. "My key, please?"

"Oh … oh yes," the old man said, still eyeing Sephiroth with a mixture of terror and awe. He reached below the counter, produced a key, and handed it to her. With murmured thanks, she turned to leave.

The General hadn't moved from his previous position, which happened to be directly in her path. Obviously he was accustomed to others moving out of _his_ way. Schooling her face into a sweet smile, she looked up at him and said clearly, "Excuse me."

His disinterested gaze, which had been surveying the surroundings, flicked to her and very quickly the look in them became haughty. Aeris could feel something similar moving across her face, making the smile fade, and a long silent moment passed before he said in a deep and echoing voice which clearly indicated his lowly opinion of her, "Of course."

"Thank you." She said with another quick smile, but it wasn't friendly. He didn't notice; he had already moved to take her place at the counter. She glanced at her key, took note of the room number, and with her suitcase in tow began to climb the winding staircase in the corner. Just before stepping onto the next floor, she paused, staring through the railing down at Sephiroth.

He was her target. And he was also, according to all her senses and the cries of the forgotten ones, the Ancient ones, one of the most powerful creatures to walk the earth. She sighed heavily before continuing to her room.

She had her work cut out for her.


	4. IV

**.4.**

Aeris spent the rest of the day in solitude, sitting at the window seat in her small, tidy room and watching a little wistfully the scene outside and below. Her room faced northeast, and so she had an unobstructed view of the town. The residents of Nibelheim were going about their daily routines; numerous children were chasing a large red ball around and two old women sat on a nearby bench and laughed at their antics. They lead simple lives, content and oblivious to everything but what surrounded and what was important to them. An uncharacteristically forlorn sigh escaped Aeris then; she would give almost anything to be as blissfully ignorant as they were.

As though sensing her mood, the voices that were with her always began to murmur their discontent. They were gently chastising, softly rebuking, and closing her eyes she snarled inwardly. They reminded her that she couldn't afford to long for such simple things, for she had a bigger purpose, a better purpose. They spoke to her of completion, they spoke to her of salvation, and she listened only for a moment longer before closing them out, shifting them to shuttered part of her mind so that their noises were—almost—silent. Her thoughts moved then to the General that roamed somewhere within this building, calculating and analyzing all she had seen and felt. She wasn't afraid; for most of her life she had been preparing for the confrontation that was inevitable.

Since early childhood, the Aeris had been aware of the striking differences between herself and other children. She retained vivid memories of her real mother; she had been raised for the majority of her life by a kind stepmother beneath the plate of Midgar. Her real mother had instilled within her the knowledge that she was the last of an Ancient race, and the presences she could both feel and hear were those of her ancestors. Her mother had told her tales of the Great Calamity that had struck the earth eons ago that had, after a bitter and vicious battle, been defeated by the Ancients. But the threat, she explained solemnly to the little girl sitting on her knee and listening with rapt attention, was far from over. The Calamity, dismembered and imprisoned, still survived. And humans, always tampering, never content to leave well enough alone, were attempting to create something powerful, something greater than human, from the pieces of the Calamity they had found. The Ancients by this point were a dying race, with only Aeris and her mother surviving. Her mother was approaching her time of Ascendance, but Aeris was young and pliable …

So it was that from a very young age, Aeris was meant to be a Weapon.

Upon her mother's passing, she felt bereft and isolated. The remnants of Ancients past, always present, became more prominent then. They spoke to her of the new enemy—a human boy infected with the Calamity and enhanced by the sacred blood of the earth; it was this boy, Aeris learned, that was to be her nemesis. His name, they whispered, was Sephiroth, and he had unknowingly, through unnatural processes, become a descendant of the Great Calamity; thus he was an unwitting heir to a power both destructive and vile. And Aeris, last of the Ancient race that had defeated the Calamity so very long ago, was his only true anathema—just as powerful in her own right, strengthened by her heritage and bond to the Ancients dead and gone. The spirits hummed to her more of the past and foretold—vaguely—the future. In order to succeed, they taught her, she had to realize that life was ruthless, and so would be her enemy. She must become ruthless as well, must understand that to be triumphant ultimately, she would have to become relentless, pitiless, and harden her heart. And she had done just that, but not without experiencing from time to time great pangs of regret for all she would never know in life.

After she had completed her task, the dead ones said often to her, she would be free. No longer would voices of ghosts haunt her, no longer would her path be dictated by fate and by necessity. She could live, finally, as she chose. It was that distant promise that kept her going with an iron resolve. And to be sitting here now, on the very verge of accomplishing what she had been raised and trained to do …

"So close," She whispered, watching as a young boy chased the red ball into a small thicket, laughing all the while.

Suddenly there was knocking at the door to her room. Not moving from her position, she called, "What is it?"

"Just wanted to tell you, Miss, that if you want to take your meals here, dinner is served from 6:00 to 8:00 in the common room."

She recognized the voice of the innkeeper, and said loudly in reply, "Alright, thank you." As she listened to his faint footsteps retreating down the hall, she glanced at her watch. It was almost 6:00, and she was getting rather hungry.

From outside her window, a loud wailing began. She looked down to see the boy, having returned from retrieving the ball, had stumbled and fell upon the cobblestones. At the sound of his crying the other children had gathered round in concern, and the old ladies had hurried over. It was a harmless injury for certain, and Aeris stared down at the scene a moment longer before turning to leave her room.

**.x.**

The common room, as she'd expected, was nearly full for dinner. She descended the stairs slowly, staff in hand, discreetly surveying the area. Most of the patrons were townsfolk, it seemed, but three tables in the corner near the hearth were full of blue uniformed ShinRa officers and what she gathered to be assorted members of SOLDIER. Their gathering was completed, she noticed with a furtive glance, by the great and pompous General Sephiroth. The innkeeper caught sight of her as her foot left the last stair; he hurried over with a warm smile.

"Glad to be seeing you, young Miss," he said, "There's a table free in the other corner if you don't mind the shadows."

Aeris spotted the table he meant; it was a secluded booth also near the fire, on the opposite side of the room from the position of the General and his associates. She nodded her approval to the innkeeper with a small answering smile, and began to thread her way through the crowded tables to take her seat. No one paid her any attention; she was just another patron, another face. She was content with that, and so she slid across the vinyl seat to sit next to the wall, propping her staff against the table, and glanced over the menu. The girl serving as both waitress and barmaid approached minutes later to take her order of soup, bread, and a flagon of the house ale. The wait for the food was short, and when it came she ate leisurely, enjoying the heavily spiced soup and the steaming slices of fresh buttered bread. Afterwards, pleasantly full, she leaned back and sipped at her ale while watching carefully all those present within the common room.

She had just finished taking a small drink when movement caught her eye. Turning her head slightly, she watched as one of the men seated at Sephiroth's table rose, and after exchanging a rowdy grin with some of his comrades, begin to walk with a distinct swaggering gait directly towards her.

**.x.**

"That," proclaimed Zack VanDenhomme, first class SOLDER, slamming his flagon down onto the table top and wiping at his watering eyes, "is a _great_ drink."

"How many is that now?" questioned the man sitting next to him. He wore the blue uniform of his _ShinRa _officer status, but had removed the mask. His fair hair, tousled by the day's work and being naturally prone to disarray, rose from his head in all directions. It gave him a slightly rakish air, and his blue eyes twinkled good-naturedly as he waited for his comrade to respond.

"Not enough," Zack replied, waving to catch the eye of the waitress and eyeing the bottom of his empty glass wistfully. He punched the blonde man lightly in the arm. "Why don't you have one, Cloud? Or two? Or perhaps more than three?"

Cloud grimaced, "Because I don't want to traipse into the mountains tomorrow with a hangover."

Zack made an unconcerned noise, and as the waitress hustled over he held up two fingers, indicating the amount of drinks he'd like.

"Cloud does have a point." Sephiroth, General of all ShinRa forces, said dryly from where he sat directly across from Cloud. "You're no good to me drunk."

"I won't be drunk," Zack replied with a grin. "I'll be a _recovering_ drunk."

Cloud muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like _idiot_. About to administer swift and physical retribution, Zack was gleefully interrupted by the arrival of his drinks. They had barely hit the table when he buried his face within one and drank like he was a dying man. Mere seconds later the flagon was empty, and he grinned at the others through a beard of ale foam.

"Cloud," Sephiroth said, shaking his head, "Idiot _is_ the proper term."

"I resemble that remark," Zack replied, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He sighed exuberantly, leaning back and scanning the room. "All that's missing now is a woman over which I can exert my irritable char—Why, _hello_…"

His comrades followed his gaze to a table in the farthest, darkest corner of the room. Sitting alone, silently and slowly drinking from her own flagon of ale, was a young woman. Shadowed as she was, it was difficult to see her in detail, but she was obviously comely to have caught Zack's attention. The SOLDIER turned with a sly smile back to his partners. "Sit back, boys, and watch a _real_ man in action."

"Alright," Cloud snorted, "but don't you mean _irresistible_ charm?"

"No," Sephiroth said, watching with an expression that was half disgust and half amusement as Zack licked his fingers and then ran them over his thick eyebrows in an effort to tame them, "Irritable sounds about right."

Zack sniggered and stuck his tongue out at the two of them. "You're both just jealous of my way with the ladies."

Cloud made a rude noise, and Sephiroth merely shook his head again in resigned amusement. As Zack stood and sauntered over to the girl, another ShinRa officer took his place and began to speak in earnest with the General about the plans for the next morning. Minutes passed before a sudden and poignant hush fell over the common room, distracting everyone and diverting their attention to the booth in the corner.

Zack was kneeling before the table, obviously having been trying to woo the girl. Said girl, however, was standing above him with an overturned flagon, remnants of her ale trickling down upon the SOLDIER's already soaked head. Very calmly she set the empty flagon down, grabbed her staff, stepped delicately passed Zack's immobile form, and made her way past the mutually entertained and stunned onlookers to exit through the door to the inn. An instant after she'd left the common room erupted into laughter, and Zack, wearing a sheepish grin, returned slowly to his own table.

"Irresistible charm, huh?" Cloud chuckled.

Zack shrugged amiably and secured his other drink. "What can I say? She's a prude."

Sephiroth, having recognized the girl as the one who had irritated him earlier, smiled slightly. "Perhaps she has common sense, Zack," said one of the other officers. He raised his own mug, and the rest, with the exception of Sephiroth and Cloud, did the same. "Cheers."

**.x.**

Standing outside the inn, Aerith stood staring at the setting sun over the tops of the houses of Nibelheim. A small smile had crept over her face upon exiting the inn; she shouldn't have poured her drink all over the SOLDIER, but it had felt good. His proposition had been suave and flawless, but she'd turned him down flat. Not that he wasn't attractive—he was tall, muscular, grey eyed, and possessed a mane of wild black hair that she knew would drive most women wild. She wasn't most women, however, and so when he'd persisted after her first refusal she did what she knew would dampen his libido: humiliate him in front of his peers. Her actions had had the desired effect, and so she'd decided to take her leave before she could attract anymore unwelcome attention to herself.

The sun was sinking rapidly, and dusk had stretched its tendrils across the sky. Aerith stood silently, leaning absently on her staff, watching as one by one the stars began to twinkle into being. For once the spirits that accompanied her had ceased their distracting chatter and had begun instead a soothing cadence which whirled within her; it was their prelude to the night, and it was beautiful. For long minutes she stood thus, savoring the peace that was all too fleeting.

And then the screaming began.


	5. V

**.5.**

Aeris was running even before her brain had computed that the screams belonged to a child. She could feel something nearby, something insidious and vile, and its very presence made her skin crawl. She'd felt something like this before, and so she pelted with an unerring sense of direction across the town square and skidded to a halt before the open mouth of a secluded avenue. Though night had almost completely engulfed the world, her eyesight, more enhanced than that of a human, could make out two figures in the middle of the darkened street—that of a frantically struggling child, and another, larger, hulking figure. The child's screams were more piercing now; the creature, which stood manlike on two legs but seemed somehow warped and twisted, had the child in the grasp of its arms and was steadily drawing it nearer.

Aeris brought her staff down hard before her in a swift arc, and it struck the cobblestones with an echoing clamor. With a whispered word she incited the small and barely noticeable piece of materia embedded near the top of the metal haft to blaze to life, flooding the street in a wash of harsh light. The creature reared back and screamed; it was a sound the entire population of Nibelheim could hear. The child was a boy—the same boy Aeris had been watching earlier, judging by the bandages which covered his bare leg, and as the creature faltered in the wake of Aeris' light he wrenched free and hurtled towards her—

With a speed that was astonishing, the creature ambled forwards and caught the boy by the back of his shirt. Able to see clearly, Aeris noted the aspects of the monster in a matter of seconds: the two heads which lolled oppositely back and forth on weak, scrawny necks, the abnormally long legs and arms which appeared too weak to function but were deceptively strong, the yellowish-grey skin that covered its entire form. She knew instinctively that this was one of the by products of the nearby Mako reactor; she could feel the angry pulse of energy coursing within it, consuming, transforming, and it sent shivers racing up and down her spine.

Shouts went up somewhere behind her; the child had resumed screaming again. She hesitated, torn; should she interfere and destroy the creature, her cover would be blown …

The boy was fighting, crying, pleading for her aid. The monster's heads, one forward, one back, gave a garbled cry in unison as it wrapped its claws around the child and lifted him in the air, brought him closer to the gaping, fanged mouths—

As if spurred by the terrified screams, the Ancient ones began to wail within her mind with a strength that was almost staggering. They shouted to her, telling her that she must not do this; the boy was one life to save a whole … Aeris gave a sharp, furious cry and spun aside, letting the light die, leaving the boy with the darkness—

"_Where?"_ A voice roughly demanded as someone—Sephiroth—appeared suddenly before her. Voicelessly she pointed with her staff, and the General vanished into the shadows. Sounds rushed back to her; the clarion echo of a sword being withdrawn, an anguished shriek, the unmistakable sounds of a violent struggle, and Aeris found herself fervently hoping with bated breath that her nemesis would succeed.

Silence fell, so heavy it seemed that existence itself had paused. Aeris backed away; she needed to return to her room, to be away from the crowds that would soon be here … Something touched her back and she whirled around with a savage hiss.

"Easy!" It was the blonde friend of the SOLDIER she had turned down; his fierce head of spiked hair was telltale even in the dark. He had a hand on her shoulder, meaning to soothe, but he didn't realize that Aeris wasn't afraid. Enraged, disgusted, she pulled away from the ShinRaofficer with savage force.

"Hey, take it easy," He repeated, his voice low and soft, meant to be calming. The town square was swarming with people now, voices raised in confusion and alarm. Their volume increased as Sephiroth shaped himself out of the shadows, one hand carrying his bloodied Masamune, the other clutching the hand of a pale and shivering child. Aeris took the opportunity to skirt around the officer who had eyes now only for the spectacle before him, and quickly made her way back to the inn. She was just reaching for the doorknob when a hand slammed onto the door itself, the attached arm effectively blocking her progress. Aeris sighed inaudibly, hand tightening around her staff, and raised her eyes to meet the startling luminescence of the General's irate gaze.

"What happened?" He demanded, and made it clear by the tone of his voice that he expected an answer.

At his words, the ghosts, which hadn't yet fallen silent, began to frantically roil within her. Gritting her teeth against their noise, against their warnings, she said slowly, "You saw it—a monster."

"Where did it come from? Did you see?"

"No." She held his eyes a moment longer, recognizing and despising the mild contempt she read there. "I didn't."

"Then why were you over there?"

"Because I heard the boy screaming." She lowered her eyes to stare pointedly at his arm. "I'd like to go in now."

He didn't move. She gripped the staff so tightly her hand shook. Was he aware, she wondered, that if she chose she could make move him by brute force? That she was just as powerful as he? Oh, how she yearned to show him … the Ancient ones were in chaos, screaming a multitude of orders at her, and she couldn't take it much longer. She took a deep breath and said, "Please. Let me go in."

It was a heartbeat before he complied, and he did so slowly. The urge to strike him down here and now was almost overwhelming. As she opened the door and swiftly slipped past him he said with no small amount of condescension, "Little girls shouldn't venture out past dark."

She halted then, and very deliberately turned around. For a moment she let her true self slide behind her eyes, let him see that she wasn't just a mere mortal for him to mock and loathe; she was his anathema, his perfect enemy. And then she quickly shuttered that side of her away from view. For long, tense moments they stared at each other, their green eyes distant cousins. A line had furrowed his forehead; for a fleeting moment he was unsure, she realized, of what she was and could do. The moment passed, and she said with a brittle smile, "Thank you for the advice."

He said nothing, but his expression was snide, and as he turned to walk away it was all she could do not to leap upon his back and bash him until only bloody pulp remained. The bloodlust was a mixture of her own anger and the hatred of the Ancient ones at the glimpse they had caught within him of the Calamity.

On the other side of the door, she breathed deep. The common room had been emptied; even the innkeeper had deserted his post to see the commotion outside. She was rattled by what she had just experience, and it was a sensation she hated more than most anything in the world. She couldn't afford to be disconcerted, not here and now, not when everything was so close to fruition.

Her mouth thinned, and resolutely she began to climb the stairs.


	6. VI

**.6.**

From where she was crouched behind a ledge atop Nibelheim mansion, Aeris stifled a sigh. The wind was fierce today, and at her current elevation it was bitterly cold; it whistled past her, tugging wildly at strands of her hair that had escaped her braid. Shifting the heavy black rifle she cradled to one arm, she reached back and drew up the large, heavy hood of her black duster in order to partially shield herself from the chill. She rocked back on her heels, attempting to ease the weight off her legs that were cramped from maintaining this position for hours. She had chosen this spot because she could see everything and not be seen; the path that led into the Nibelheim mountains was almost directly before her. She eased back down into her crouch and quickly glanced at her watch. Five hours had passed since Sephiroth and his contingent, led by a young local woman, had ventured into the mountains in order to ascertain and remedy the problem with the malfunctioning reactor. Moving the rifle so she held it with both hands once more, Aeris sighed again.

This was the hardest part of what she did—the long hours spent patiently in wait. She had not slept the night previous; after her confrontation with Sephiroth at the entrance to the inn she had gone to her room and had spent the remainder of the night cross legged upon the bed, lost deep in a state almost akin to meditation. She had allowed the Ancient ones to sing to her, to soothe her with their presence; it was something they did rarely, much to her regret. Upon the breaking of the dawn, she had rose and dressed again in her leathers, securing all her weapons to their appropriate locations and donning over it all her thick black duster, which fell to her ankles and was flared at the waist to allow for easier movement. Wanting heavier firepower should something go awry, she'd added her shotgun to her arsenal, sliding it into a custom holster that adorned her outer thigh. She'd then removed from her suitcase a dull grey rifle case that looked inconspicuous and housed within it the instrument of Sephiroth's imminent demise. Lastly she'd gathered the heavy mass of her hair and bound it into a braid before tucking it beneath the collar of her coat. Prepared for what was quite possibly the most important day of her life, Aeris had thus left the inn and made her way to ShinRa mansion.

She had entered cautiously; she had been there once before and therefore was acutely aware that it held monstrosities and perils of its own. She encountered none of these, however, as she made her way to the topmost floor, her footsteps echoing eerily in the almost tangible stillness that thoroughly encompassed the ancient building. Rotting tapestries and molding works of art adorned the peeling, fading walls; furniture in various states of decay still littered the rooms. The first time she had entered the mansion had been to find all records of research kept in the basement that pertained to Sephiroth and the Calamity. She had found then the mansion to be a place of memories and thoughts which still haunted the oppressive silence; it hadn't, she noticed absently, changed since then.

Slipping out onto a crumbling balcony from one of the upper bedrooms, it was a simple matter for her to gain access to the roof. And so she had settled herself behind a stone ledge which served as a perch for a crumbled gargoyle, and less than an hour later had watched as the Nibelheim woman led Sephiroth and his men away into the towering, daunting mountains. She would wait until they returned before striking; he would be in the lead then, and she could take aim without having to worry about someone impeding her shot. Not that she would hesitate should that happen. He had to be destroyed, and if someone else had to die in order for her to make it happen …

So be it.

Movement caught her eye from the path below; with bated breath she watched as members of the ShinRa party walked into view. They were still sheltered partially by the foliage of the surrounding trees. Aeris rose into a better position, bringing the rifle up and bracing it against her shoulder. She placed her eye before the scope and patiently followed the progress of the group through the leaves. She could recognize some of them—the SOLDIER that had approached her the evening previous, the dark haired villager that had volunteered to lead them all to the reactor, the blonde ShinRa officer who for some reason walked without his helmet. Everything faded from her awareness then, leaving only her, the trigger against her finger, and the pale haired man she found and followed through her crosshairs … the wind whipped past her again, making her eyes water and tearing at her hood, but she didn't move. She could hear their voices now, carried to her by the furious currents of air, and her body tensed.

_There. _There he was, breaking free of the tree-line and walking now in open sight. She didn't have a killing aim, though; slowly she let her breath out, willing silently the dark haired SOLDIER to move away from the General. An instant later he did.

Now—a clear shot …

—_S__ephiroth— _

She pulled the trigger. The rifle rocked back against her with bruising force, the silenced gunshot pulled away by the wind. She remained only long enough to see the blood well up through his coat, to see him crumple to the ground before she was stealthily running, bent low to the roof with the rifle over her shoulder. She reached the edge where she had climbed up; with effortless grace she leapt to the balcony below, landing precariously near the crumbled edge and having to take a moment to balance. Already she could hear the ensuing commotion; shouts and yells heading closer to the mansion. For a second she hesitated, staring at the rifle case that lay where she had left it; forsaking it she turned and vaulted through the broken window into the bedroom, and ran headlong from there down the long hallway. The rifle slapped against her back with each step she took; she descended the stairs two at a time, rounded a corner and entered the parlor, where all staircases converged into a landing and looked out over the entrance of the mansion. On the west side of the mansion there was another bedroom with a window she could escape from, and from there she could leave, unseen, by stealing through the surrounding forest.

She had just reached the center of the landing when a shout rang out, halting her in her tracks and spinning her around to face the entrance.

Stunned, numb with disbelief, she found herself staring at Sephiroth.

**.x.**

For a moment Sephiroth's world had ceased moving and had become simply still; it had taken an instant for the pain to manifest itself. Abruptly he found himself unable to breathe for the constricting intensity of the agony which roared through him. He had fallen then, limbs giving way as he clutched his chest in stupefied desperation. The pieces fell into place as he felt the solid ground beneath him, as he heard the confused and alarmed voices of those he had travelled with.

He had been shot.

He tried to say something, but all that left him was a strangled gasp for air. Beneath his fingers he could feel his lifeblood seeping from him with frightening quickness. Hands were touching him, prying his hands away from the wound, probing it gently. Fury replaced his initial shock, fury that someone _dare_ attempt this, and through sheer force of will he pushed the concerned hands away and raised himself into a sitting position. He could _feel_ the bullet within him, a solid, obstructive present at his very core, and radiating out from its location were blistering waves of pain.

"Sephiroth!" Someone—Zack—said in a loud, panicked voice. "We need to get you—"

"Get in there!" Sephiroth hissed, face contorting as he clutched again at the wound. And then, with a harsh cry of pain, he propelled himself to his feet and staggered unsteadily towards the mansion. He could hear Zack shouting orders to the others, telling them to radioShinRa for a helicopter, commanding them to penetrate the mansion and find the would-be assassin. Nothing mattered to Sephiroth at this moment but finding the shooter and inflicting his unholy wrath … he fell heavily into the mansion door, and it opened with a horrendous screech. His eyes were drawn immediately to a fleeing figure upon a staircase landing, and steadying himself he shouted, "_Halt!_"

The figure did just that, whirling around to face him. Despite his agony, despite his rage, he was stricken immediately with shocked incredulity. His assassin was a woman, and not just any woman at that. His assassin was the impertinent slip of a girl who he had questioned the night before, the girl that Zack had attempted to seduce, the girl who had had the nerve to make him move that day in the inn …

"_You?"_ He asked in a voice that shook, and even at that volume his words echoed clearly. She was staring at him in silent disbelief; a slow smile, distorted by his grimace of pain, crept across his face as he realized she had thought he was dead.

Zack and Cloud, followed by other ShinRa officers, poured through the door at that moment. Their eyes took in the scene before them: the girl on the landing, clad all in black with a rifle slung over her shoulder, and upon recognition Zack said with incredulous awe, "Well, bugger me sideways …"

So swiftly it was a blur, the girl began running again, bounding up the west staircase. "STOP HER!" Sephiroth shouted hoarsely, and without hesitation his troops swiftly moved to comply.

**.x.**

_How is this possible?_

It was the only thought that reverberated through her mind as she stared with utter disbelief at the General. One hand was fisted over his chest and covered in blood, the other clutched the side of the entrance for support. Traces of crimson had stained the pale strands of his hair as it fell in disarray all around him, and she could see clearly blood trickling down the length of his coat to pool beneath the polished ebony of his boots.

_This can't be!_

She _knew_ her shot had been true; it had been directly through his heart. She knew it with a conviction deep within her soul, and the Ancient ones, wailing wildly within her, agreed. Therefore the only answer could be that he was immune to mortal wounds, wounds that would kill a normal man—

And with a sudden flare of bitter insight, she realized that was the true reason: he was no normal man. And though she'd been acutely aware of that, he was more modified and contaminated by the Calamity and Mako than either she or the dead ones had realized …

"_You?"_ His voice wavered, but she was still able to hear the blatant disbelief. It was similar to what she was experiencing at the moment. As they regarded each other, an odd smile curved his lips, and she felt a rush of bitter fury at his audacity.

Others came flying through the door then, and she remained motionless for only a moment longer before turning and resuming her mad dash to the window exit. She heard him shout orders behind her, and she knew what those orders would be. She had just reached the bedroom door when the wood of the wall next to her exploded from gunfire; spinning about she was faced with the dark haired SOLDIER and his blonde friend.

"Halt!" Said the SOLDIER. He held with both hands a blade large enough to seem both incongruous and suggestively deadly. The other was aiming a black, vicious looking assault rifle her way. She did as he ordered, dropping the sniper rifle, turning to face them both and reaching beneath her duster at the same time to withdraw her shotgun. She had it in hand before either could react; for one tense moment they all regarded each other over the double barrels in her grasp.

"There's too many of us," the SOLDIER said quietly, calmly, in a negotiating voice. "You'll never make it out alive."

"No," she corrected steadily. "I will. But some of you won't."

She fired even before the words were out of her mouth, too quickly for them to react; the shot took the dark haired one in the shoulder and the force with which it hit knocked him back down the stairs. The blonde hesitated, expression torn; she shucked another shell into place one handed and fired again. He dove back, disappearing from sight, and Aeris allowed herself a feral smile before turning back to the closed door. With one savage, well placed kick she removed the barrier, and choosing to leave the sniper rifle behind, leapt through. The window was open, the glass long since shattered, and she hoisted herself through with relative ease, shotgun still in one hand. She dropped the small distance to the ground, landing in a crouch; she could hear from within the house the sounds of footsteps up the stairs.

"Aeris."

She was on her feet and aiming at the voice before she'd even recognized it. Tseng stood only a few paces away, hands raised in a gesture of peace. Forcing her heartbeat to slow, Aeris lowered the shotgun and asked tersely, "What are you doing here?"

"I saw what happened. I know the General still lives."

"Here to arrest me to save face for Rufus?"

"No." He cast a glance upwards, to the window she had just come through. Voices could be heard from within. Speaking swiftly and softly he said, "Get out of here. Go through the forest."

She eyed him warily, "And what will you say to them?"

"That I shot at you, and that you escaped. That I'm here on Rufus' orders to oversee the reactor project."

Aeris relaxed visibly. "Tseng—I hit him head on. Straight through the heart."

The Turk nodded. "I know. It seems he's more advanced than Hojo let on. Now go, quickly. I will be in touch with you soon."

She nodded wordlessly; leaning the shotgun against her shoulder she darted past him and into the dense mass of trees.

Tseng watched for a few seconds until Aeris was out of sight; at that moment a head appeared in the broken window and a voice called out.

"What the—_Tseng__?_"

He recognized the speaker; it was a ShinRa officer named Cloud. Another face appeared beside Cloud's, the first class SOLDIER Zack. Blood stained the right shoulder of Zack's uniform, and his face was drawn into tight lines.

"Why are you here, Tseng?" Zack yelled, voice tense.

"Rufus asked me to come and oversee your progress."

"Did you see a girl? A girl with a gun?"

"Yes." Tseng raised one arm; in his hand he held his own firearm. "I shot at her and missed. She fired back, and I dove for cover. I don't know which way she went."

"Shit." He heard Cloud say with feeling. Zack called, "Tseng, Sephiroth's been shot. He's around front."

Tseng nodded, turning without further word holstering his pistol. He skirted the edge of the mansion quickly, and as he reached the front he saw the General crumpled on the ground surrounded by a dozen of harried looking ShinRa soldiers. Tseng approached swiftly, pushing an officer aside and kneeling at Sephiroth's shoulder. The General was unconscious, features pale and haggard, breathing fast and irregular. Tseng pulled Sephiroth's coat away from the wound so the blood wouldn't dry to the fabric; catching sight of the wound he hissed. Directly above the General's heart was a bloody crater. If he had been any other man, he would be dead.

_Any other man …_

"We've called for a helicopter, sir." One officer said, quite obviously relieved to see Tseng, an authority figure, on site. The Turk nodded. Cloud appeared then, supporting a limping Zack. The SOLDIER collapsed to his knees beside Tseng and with his uninjured arm ripped the fabric away from his wounded shoulder. The shotgun blast had gone straight through, and blood was dripping in steady rivulets down both his chest and back.

"I'll be alright." Zack said through clenched teeth as Cloud knelt and probed the wound with a gentle finger. As his friend fell back on his heels, he added, "Y'know, I'm kind of glad she turned me down now."

Cloud snorted, and averting his face, Tseng smiled. He had been in the inn that night, incognito, to witness Zack's rejection. His smile died as his eyes fell again upon Sephiroth. After taking a bullet directly through the heart, he was still alive. Such resilience was astounding, but it gave rise to serious, grim questions that required an answer.

Just what would it take to kill him?


	7. VII

**.7.**

Work hours were over, and the ShinRa Inc. building had been mostly emptied of its daily occupants. Situated on the eighty ninth floor, however, was an office with all its lights still on; within that office Rufus ShinRa sat mired deep in his ponderous thoughts. Two weeks had passed since the ill fated attempt on Sephiroth's life, and the aftermath had created a great deal of controversy both within the ranks of ShinRa Inc_._ and without; Rufus felt a headache coming on just at that the thought of the resulting mess. As powerful as the mega-corporation was, there was simply no way to keep the assassination attempt out of the media; hours after Sephiroth, accompanied by Tseng in a ShinRa Inc_._ medical chopper, arrived back in Midgar the news was everywhere that the legendary General had been shot and almost killed.

_Almost killed._ That, more than anything else about this whole fiasco, was what bothered Rufus the most. Tseng had come to his employer immediately upon arrival, detailing all that had happened with vivid clarity. Aeris had done all she had promised she would do; the problem lay with Sephiroth and his unwillingness to die. At first Rufus was skeptical, thinking perhaps Tseng was covering for the assassin, but then he saw the medical reports, witnessed first hand the extent of Sephiroth's wound. All his doubts, his misconceptions, had been assuaged then for there was no denying that on any other man, Aeris' shot would have been a killing blow.

And that was the absolute crux of his current dilemma.

Rufus had met the hype of the media with his typical implacable calm, explaining with purposeful vagueness that yes, the great General had fallen victim to an assassination attempt, but said attempt had failed and he had been seriously wounded but would live. He went on to say that as of the current time, ShinRa Inc_._ had no idea who was behind the attempt, but were doing their best to discover the responsible entities and bring them to justice. Though it was left unsaid, it was common knowledge exactly what kind of justice ShinRa Inc_._ was capable of dispensing.

Aside from the huge publicity this incident had drawn, it had brought into light just how much Dr. Aurelius Hojo, head of ShinRa Inc.'s Science Department, had been withholding from his superiors in terms of exactly how advanced Genetically Manipulated and Evolutionized Subject 003—G.M.E.S.003 for short—actually was. Hojo had been given almost free reign in terms of his scientific work and experimentation by President ShinRa, but was required to report and file everything he did with Rufus. Rufus and Hojo did not like each other; Hojo was very much the President's lapdog, a conniving yet undeniably brilliant man who let very little stand in the way of his research. Hojo's arrogance and ruthlessness made him a man to be wary of, and Rufus was ever conscious that he was not the only within this corporate giant to have his own elite band of enforcers. Though Rufus and Hojo constantly butted heads, the President's son had been fairly certain that he knew all there was to know about the Science Department's projects. Upon Sephiroth's wounding, however, it had become evident that Hojo had been hiding a great many things; after demanding an explanation Rufus had been waylaid by his father, who, with a smug, condescending grin, had informed his son that Sephiroth's newest engineered "evolution" had been fully sanctioned by none other than himself. This barb struck home with Rufus, though he did not show it; the fact that the President had seen fit to keep his own son and Vice President in the dark about something so significant was another nail in the coffin.

Rufus' lip twisted savagely. Oh, how he longed to seal the lid on the vile, corpulent waste that was his father. And his one, inarguable chance had lain with the death of Sephiroth … now he was uncertain if Sephiroth could ever be killed or would ever die, and the implications of this made him grit his teeth in utter frustration. He _would _take over as head of this company, if for no other reason than he deserved it. And on that day, may his only living relation rot in hell forever …So deep was Rufus' introspection that he wasn't aware of the new presence in his office until a throat was cleared politely in order to gain attention. Startled, the Vice President's gaze flew to the door, where there stood someone watching him in motionless silence. Not just anyone, he realized then, coming to his feet in astonishment, but Aeris …

"You're either very confident or incredibly naïve to be coming here," he remarked a moment later, clearing his face of his surprise but remaining on his feet.

Aeris smiled as she crossed the lacquered ebony of the marble floor with measured steps, her long coat drifting slightly behind her as she walked. She sank into one of the two plush leather upholstered chairs on the opposite side of his desk. "You know which, I think."

"I do," he confirmed with an answering smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He seated himself once again, propping both elbows on the desk and regarding her over his clasped hands. "But I have to wonder what's brought you here. Especially now."

"I come for information." She replied quietly, her own gaze as unwavering as his own. She unnerved him in a way; in most every other person he was able to see either the respect or intimidation that he inspired, but Aeris was a closed book—always impassive, always unreadable. It bothered him that she was in no way wary of him, but was simultaneously aware that it was this fearlessness that made her as dangerous as she undeniably was.

"About Sephiroth?" It was more statement than question, but he felt compelled to say it. She gave a single, brief nod, and he sighed in a slow exhale before continuing. "I have no idea, really, just what the General is anymore. Hojo has been somewhat recalcitrant in divulging the true extents of his progress with me, it seems."

"I thought as much."

"Did you?" He stared at her a moment, wondering what thoughts roamed behind her steadfast gaze. He smiled again, a mirthless curling of his lips. "Of course you did." He paused a moment. "As I said, I don't know anymore about Sephiroth at this point than you do ... and that, I would imagine, is quite a bit."

"I need access to Hojo's lab." She said bluntly after a second.

Unruffled, Rufus replied. "You ask a great deal, Aeris. Because of your attempt on the General's life, security has been tripled. I can give you access to the lab, but getting there won't be easy."

"Let me worry about that," she said softly, and the iron determination beneath those words clarified his already existent knowledge that this was a woman not to be trifled with in any way, shape or form.

"Very well," he said, leaning back and assessing her with measured eyes. "But you understand that should you be caught, I won't be able to step in …?"

"Understood, but I won't get caught."

"Is it crazy that I believe you?" He half asked himself, reaching into his upper right desk drawer and removing his own personal ShinRa Inc_._ executive keyboard and sliding it across the polished mahogany of his desktop towards her. She sat up and took it carefully between two leather gloved fingers, examining it carefully. Looking back to him, she said, "Should they catch me, with your keycard … an awkward situation, wouldn't that be?"

"Indeed." Rufus agreed. "But, as you said—you won't get caught."

They smiled then, genuine smiles, for they understood each other on some level not shared by those who led simpler, less violent lives. Aeris stood then, an effortless unfolding of limbs. As she turned to leave, Rufus said, "The lab is on the fiftieth floor. I advise taking the stairs—the elevators are closely monitored."

She nodded, half turning, before swiftly exiting his office. And as the Vice President rested his head back against his chair, the sigh he emitted was one of satisfaction. The fact that Aeris was here indicated she was still resolute upon ending Sephiroth's life, and Rufus was beginning to find that, like Tseng, he was certain she could complete such a feat. The fact that she'd made it to his office at all without ShinRa Inc.'s formidable security measures detecting her presence told him something about her considerable skills, for the executive offices were under twenty four hour surveillance. The lab, however, was another matter.

Rufus pursed his lips, considering, and then picked up the phone and began to dial.

**.x.**

Fifteen minutes later Aeris stood within the cavernous laboratory; illuminated only by the auxiliary lights it seemed a haunted, eerie place. Various cylindrical glass observation cells littered the open area, and several mesh cages were situated to the rear and left side of the large room. There was an observation deck to the far right, a room separated from the main part by glass and steel. It was there, Aeris knew, that she'd find what it was she was looking for, and so with a determined stride she skirted the lurid pools of overhead light. Something lingering in this chamber was causing her nerves to sing with heightened apprehension and the voices of the elders to wail in discord within her, but she steeled herself and concentrated on exerting the resonance she felt always as part of her heritage to meld her form with the shadows, to move through the black as though a part of them. It was a parlour trick, one she used often, and it would be enough to keep her from being visible to the many surveillance cameras situated here for the time being. This was also how she'd moved through the building undetected, for after hours only the auxiliary lights lit the many halls.

Coming to the observation deck, she inserted Rufus' keycard into the slot with the blinking red light; there was a small chime, and the light turned green. Aeris slipped swiftly through the door as it slid open; once inside she cast a swift glance about. There were filing cabinets all along the far wall, gleaming dull black in the bright fluorescent lights that had flickered on as soon as she'd entered, and as she stepped before them she caught sight of yet another camera directly overhead. It was too bright here for her to hide herself, and so she had only a small window of time until her presence was noted. It would be enough; it had to be.

She moved to stand in front of one of the cabinets with the label _G.M.E.S._ in bold letters adorning the front and tried opening one of the drawers. As she suspected, it was locked tight; with a simple flexing of her arm she wrenched it free whilst destroying the locking mechanism. Quickly she began flipping through the manila file folders, scanning the names scrawled on them. She knew all about the G.M.E.S. program; she'd learned from Tseng. There were, however, many more projects in the program than she'd originally realized; hundreds, by the number of files she was currently scanning through. She'd just made an impatient noise when she found what it was she was searching for—a particularly thick folder tagged with: _SEPHIROTH: G.M.E.S. 003. _She hefted it free of the drawer only to have another come free as well, and it slipped from her fingers to fall to the floor. Frowning, she crouched to see the tag on the other folder, and it read: _VINCENT VALENTINE: G.M.E.S. 001. _About to separate this unwanted folder from the one she needed, she was distracted by the sudden cacophony of the whispers within her, warning her of somebody's inevitable approach; an instant later the silence was broken by the hissing of the observation door sliding open.

She whirled, forsaking both folders for her semiautomatics. Tseng stepped complacently over the threshold to stand before her, hands tucked casually within his navy suit pockets and a mild smile on his face, hair pulled into a severe braid that fell over his shoulder and down his chest. Lowering her guns after a second and sliding them beneath her coat into their hip holsters, Aeris asked with a raised eyebrow, "Rufus sent you?"

The Turk nodded his head, eyes moving to the folders on the floor behind her to the open cabinet. "Yes, to aid you, but I'm afraid we don't have time for that." He stepped past her and stooped to pick up the folders, not bothering to read their labels. Handing them to her, he said, "You've been detected. You need to leave now."

She gestured to the camera seated above the door with a clear view of them both. "They'll have seen you too."

He shook his head. "I disabled all security cameras in this section of the building. Nobody will know we've spoken. But time is short—you must go now."

She held his gaze for a heartbeat before giving him a quick nod, a small and gratuitous smile swiftly crossing her face. Folders tucked securely under one arm, she reached beneath her coat and withdrew again one of her semiautomatics; she strode quickly to the door, and as it opened before her Tseng's voice swiveled her head back around.

"Aeris—Sephiroth is with them."

Though inwardly the mention of her nemesis had the Ancient ones howling in dismay, Aeris' outward expression was one of stoic calm. "Thank you, Tseng." She said quietly, and without further ado she was hurtling across the lab with a swiftness so great that she seemed but a blur to the Turk's eyes. When she was gone from his vision he turned and slid the cabinet drawer shut before removing himself with his own considerable haste from the observation deck, and then the lab.

**.x.**

The news that she'd been discovered hadn't been a shock—the fact that Sephiroth was among those sent to stop her was. Considering the wound she'd inflicted upon him, she had thought he'd be rendered immobile for quite some time, but obviously his powers of self rejuvenation rivaled his unimaginable resilience. Aeris knew Tseng would do what he could to waylay the security teams that even now must be attempting to cut off any and all escape routes available to her; thank all that was holy for her greater speed …

It was on the thirty seventh floor that they caught up with her; leaping down from one set of stairs and preparing to launch herself down the other the sound of many boots pounding up metal steps toward her prompted her immediately to spin about and face the door. The access light above it was flashing a lurid red, indicating lock down for security reasons; it took two well-placed, powerful kicks to the center of the door to knock it out and away from the frame with the screech of twisting metal. She cast a furtive glance around, taking in her surroundings before bolting headlong down an empty corridor to her right that was awash in the crimson lights of the building alarm. Taking the elevator wasn't an option; she hoped to lure the security team away from the stairwell and then double back. This plan dissolved almost as soon as it was formulated, however; as she reached an intersection in hallways three blue uniformed ShinRa officers suddenly spilled into view, all of them armed.

"_Halt!" _The foremost of them shouted, but Aeris didn't bother slowing. She was pulling the trigger even as they began to fire their own weapons; her first two shots struck the leader square in the chest. As she fell she twisted to the side, attempting to avoid the fire from the other two, but a bullet grazed her ribcage as she came up hard against the wall. Dropping to a crouch, still clutching the folders, she emptied the remainder of the clip into one, and as he toppled over backwards with a garbled cry, she lunged for the last. He brought up his assault rifle as she flew at him, using it as a club; she blocked with her free arm before delivering a savage roundhouse kick to his jaw. His head snapped back with the audible sound of bones breaking, and as he fell limply to join his comrades Aeris was off and running once again.

The corridor she was now in possessed a row of large windows which looked out over Midgar in all its evening glory. She had dropped her gun and fumbled beneath her coat for the other as she ran. Shouts went up somewhere behind her; the bodies had been found, and now they knew for certain where she was. Ignoring the external noise and the internal panicked chaos of the elders, she wondered somewhat frantically how she was going to escape this mess …

And from a side hall someone tall, someone white haired stepped out in front of her, and all her thoughts abruptly came to a screeching standstill.

**.x.**

Sephiroth had been within his personal quarters on the seventieth floor when the security alarm had been sounded. Lying on his bunk, one arm cast over his eyes and in search of sleep so elusive, he'd sat bolt upright and risen, moving to stand before the flashing red screen set into the wall next to his door. Punching in his keycard, he accessed the security files to see what exactly the reason for the disturbance was. Immediately surveillance from the lab popped up, and when he saw the figure rummaging through the many files within the observation deck he stopped only to grab his sword from where it hung on the wall before he was out of his quarters and running for the elevators.

Reaching them, he'd activated the intercom within, speaking on a private channel with the head of night security and ordering that the intruder be detained, not killed. As the glass lift descended swiftly, Sephiroth's only thoughts were those of revenge. He wasn't entirely healed from the wound he'd sustained from this woman; his chest, exposed and bare for the purpose of sleep, bore an angry jagged scar directly over his heart; it still ached from time to time, and sudden movement caused him sharp pain. Nothing, however would deter him from this abrupt opportunity that had so nicely presented itself.

A voice blared over the intercom, alerting him that the intruder was trapped on the thirty seventh floor. Less than a minute later he was standing on said floor, listening intently to the voices raised in alarm, and with the precise, sure confidence for which he was renowned for he began to run down one hall before turning without hesitation and heading down another. His keen hearing made out footsteps then, solitary, rapid and steadily increasing in volume, and with grim satisfaction he moved out of the hallway he was in and into another, turning to face who he knew he would find—his would be assassin.

She stopped short as she caught sight of him, long coat swirling about her legs in the aftermath of her halt. In one hand she held a sleek, dark grey handgun, and it was trained steadily on him. It was what the other hand gripped at her side, however, that caught his attention—thick file folders, and he didn't need to be omniscient to know what information they held.

"I think," he said a trifle mockingly, gesturing to the weapon she held, "we've already ascertained that guns won't work on me."

Her eyes narrowed; he watched as her finger trembled over the trigger. When she abruptly holstered the weapon instead of shooting him as she so obviously longed to do, he was momentarily surprised. She said nothing, merely watched him with a clear gaze that was as hooded and as cryptic as his own tended to be. This angered him, for she was showing no fear. He demanded shortly, "Who are you?"

A ghost of an unpleasant smile flickered about the edges of her mouth. "Does it matter?"

He took a step forward, slow and predatory, idly slicing the air with his blade to indicate his ire. "Who are you, then, that you would want to kill me?"

"One of many, I'd imagine." she replied calmly, seemingly unperturbed by either his nearness or weapon.

"Impertinent." He remarked, recalling his brief interactions with her in Nibelheim, recalling how she had irked him even then. From behind her came the sounds of approaching soldiers, and he allowed himself his own smile. "Surrender, assassin of mine. You're surrounded."

"Maybe." She said, and then she was moving, the folders falling from her hands. Her quickness was astounding; a kick to his forearm jarred the sword from his unsuspecting grip. As she swung for him with one fist he sprang into action; he caught hold of her wrist with one hand and allowed himself a rush of vindictive satisfaction—he could snap her arm like a twig—

His satisfaction faded immediately, for he found he couldn't budge her arm. She was straining against him yes, but on any other human he would easily be able to overcome such exertion. As his eyes widened at the implications of this, her other fist connected with his jaw—_hard_—and sent him staggering back upon releasing her. For a moment his vision swam; shaking his head to dispel the disorientation he stared upon this woman who stood so defiantly before him with newfound and very unfamiliar trepidation. Such a blow from a normal human would have been nothing to him, a slight discomfort, but this had _hurt_ …

"What's the matter?" She asked, and there was a lilting, taunting note to her voice.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

She lunged for him again; he barely managed to block the flurry of rapid fire punches she rained down upon his upper body. Infuriated, he caught one of her arms, and turning flipped her over his back in a throw. She turned the impact into a shoulder roll, coming up fast and facing him with an expression that could only be described as fierce. For a moment they simply stared at each other, and then she said very slowly and deliberately, "I'm your anathema, Sephiroth."

For a second he regarded her, hearing and recognizing the iron honesty in her words. He made a rude noise then, disbelieving, and threw himself at her; she twisted lithely to the side and dropped, swiping at his feet with one extended leg. The blow knocked him to his back, but as her foot came down where his neck had been he was rolling aside. Like fluid quicksilver he was standing, and this time when she came for him he was ready. He blocked her punch and landed a savage uppercut of his own; she stumbled into the wall with blood trickling from her mouth, but he gave her no time for recovery. His fingers wrapped themselves about her neck and squeezed; the strangled noise she made gave rise to his vicious smile. Lifting her so that she no longer touched the floor, he made to toss her aside when she kicked out; the flat of her boot connected squarely with the still healing wound over his heart, and he let her drop with a harsh, agonized shout.

"_Bastard,"_ She snarled as he fell heavily to one knee, clutching at his chest. She approached him with swift strides and delivered another devastating kick to his wound, and for a moment all went black. When he could see again, he was staring at the ceiling; struggling past the searing, constricting pain in his chest he came up into a slow crouch. The woman had folders in hand again and had passed him, apparently content for leaving him there only wounded. Enraged, Sephiroth launched himself towards her, hands catching her shoulders and spinning her around. She ripped herself free from his grasp and had raised one arm to make another blow when he kicked out; he hit her evenly in the abdomen, and the force with which he did so had her airborne. Only when the sound of shattering glass filled his ears did he realize what had happened; he watched stunned as her form crashed through one of the many windows and plummeted from sight, papers from the folders flying everywhere in her wake.

Seconds passed before he approached the now empty pane, boots crunching loudly over the thick shards of glass. One hand fisted over his heart in an attempt to alleviate the new agony which danced there, he stuck his head out the window and attempted to pierce the darkness to see whether the woman's broken form lay on the ground so many stories below. It was useless; night had fallen, and her remains—if there indeed were any—were hidden from him. The occasional paper still flitted through the air, caught on a passing breeze, and with an angry, pained sigh he turned from the window to stare at the mess around him.

When the security team finally arrived, they found one silent General and a broken window, with all traces of the intruder gone.


	8. VIII

**.8.**

Her breath was ripped from her as she fell, stolen from her very lips as she twisted about uncontrollably midair. The screaming intensity of her descent thundered through her ears; fighting the pressure of the air rising against her she maintained even then her death's grip on the folders. She had only a few seconds to interpret this new situation—to see with eyes that were tearing up from the cold, from the speed with which she plummeted the ground rising swiftly up to meet her, and in those seconds her mind screamed at her _this will hurt!_

The impact itself was beyond agony, beyond any pain she'd ever known. Shielding her head with one outflung arm, she struck the concrete some thirty floors from where she originated with enough force to cause the ground to first heave and then sink. She blacked out then, unable to withstand the immense torture, and for how long she existed only in darkness she had no way of knowing.

"Aeris."

The sound of her name brought her swimming back, unwilling, to consciousness, and as she surfaced from the merciful depths of oblivion her world narrowed to only one thing: pain. It lanced through every inch of her body and resounded in her skull; as her eyes began to roll back into her head a new sensation, a touch of hand made torturous by the rawness of her flesh, refused to let her drift away again.

"Aeris," came the voice again, more insistent and urgent this time. "Aeris, can you hear me?"

She fumbled through the haze of suffering that oppressively clouded her being, trying to answer with a mouth pressed against a cold hard surface, attempting to speak with a tongue that tasted nothing but blood. She had to move, had to lift her face away from the ground; her fingers clutched at small pebbles as she exerted her arms to push her body up and away, to roll herself over and face whoever it was that spoke. Muscles trembling violently, she rose only a hairsbreadth before her arms gave way and she collapsed heavily with a muffled whimper. Her shoulder felt as though it was on fire, and with a detached and assessing part of her mind she realized it was dislocated.

More hands on her then, doing what she could not and lifting her carefully, gently; even this cautiousness caused her to cry out in agony. She was lifted into a sitting position, supportive hands at her back to keep her from toppling over. Through glazed eyes she stared at the closest of her saviors, and it took her several long moments to realize it was the Turk known as Rude.

"Do you understand me, Aeris?" He asked, staring at her intently over the rims of his lowered sunglasses, dark eyes clearly indicating apprehension. With the hand not supporting her he held up two fingers in her line of vision and waved them back and forth; a relieved noise left him as her eyes followed their movement.

"F-files," she finally mumbled, after finding her voice and spitting out a mouthful of blood. "Need them …"

"They're right here; Elena is gathering what she can of what fell out." Blinking in an attempt to dispel the grey haze that obscured her vision, Aeris looked beyond Rude's broad shoulder to see the petite blond form of the only female Turk darting to and fro in the ShinRa Inc_._ parking lot, stooping low to pick up stray papers. With great effort and no small amount of pain Aeris craned her neck back to stare into the night sky, trying to originate the point from which she'd fallen from. Sephiroth would be here soon to ascertain she was dying or dead, and to take back the information she'd stolen. As if reading her thoughts, Rude asked, "Can you stand?"

"Don't know," she answered slowly; her jaw was stiff and reluctant to move. Rude moved to kneel at her side and slipped an arm around her shoulders, lights from the parkade momentarily reflected off the smooth baldness of his head. As he lifted her—mostly of his own accord—Aeris bit down hard on a tortured scream and concentrated instead on breathing and not passing out. When finally supported by her own two feet Rude drew away; she swayed on the spot but did not fall.

"We need to get you out of here," Rude said then, casting a furtive glance around; he too knew that it was only a matter of time until security teams arrived.

"My shoulder …" Aeris said, "Dislocated."

The sound he made was either one of sympathy or one that indicated he was unsurprised by this news; she was in no state to decipher which. He gripped her injured shoulder hard and braced the other on the flat of her stomach; looking her in the eyes he said grimly, "I'm sorry."

She had no time to brace for it; in one swift, brutal movement he'd realigned her shoulder, and if he hadn't been standing before her she would have collapsed. When she became fully aware once more she was half draped across him, and with a murmured apology she pulled away.

"Time to go," Rude said suddenly, whirling about and letting loose a piercing whistle. Elena's head snapped up at the sound, and without hesitation she ran to join them. Sirens could be heard rising on the distance, drawing ever nearer and their lights could be seen piercing the ever-darkening dusk as they approached the ShinRa Inc. headquarters. Rude gripped Aeris' arm and began to run, pulling her with him; she had taken only two steps before releasing a muffled scream, for the sudden weight on her right leg indicated further serious injury in that part of her anatomy. She went down, stumbling, only to have Rude haul her upright swiftly, cradling her in his grasp with one arm around her back and the other under her knees. He was seemingly unhindered by her weight; he ran smoothly, quickly, but each step jarred Aeris' battered body so that her consciousness ebbed and flowed from her like the tide. She was remotely aware of Elena's constant presence, smaller yet more fleet than that of Rude, as she raced at their side.

Breathless words were exchanged amongst the two; clinging as tight she could to the tatters of awareness that even now threatened to slip from her, Aeris struggled to interpret what was being said. She caught several fragments: _Tseng, safe house, Rufus, _and_ orders_, and knew with some relief that the Turks were taking her somewhere secure, someplace where she could recover from this night's incidents. When the movement around her changed, when she was jostled about and felt beneath her then the plush upholstery of a vehicle seat, when she heard the telltale quiet rumble of an engine coming to life she let the oblivion which lurked ever near to finally overtake her. It was hands on her body again that roused her somewhat, and through half-opened eyes she watched as again Rude lifted her, watched as Elena led the way into a building that looked as ramshackle and as derelict as any she'd ever seen. The door opened under Elena's deft twist of a key, and she shut it swiftly behind them as Rude crossed the threshold.

This was a safe house, Aeris realized as she fought to interpret all she was seeing once Elena had switched on the light—a small suite fully furnished with boarded up windows and iron bars across the sills. On one wall numerous rifles were hung and below them on a shelf sat matching boxes of ammunition. Quickly Rude crossed to the bed in the corner and divested himself of Aeris as gently as he could; she managed to stifle her whimper as the slight movement sent piercing, blistering waves rushing to her very core. The Turks began to converse again tersely, urgent undertones obvious to Aeris even in her dazed state. When Rude knelt at the side of the bed to speak again to her she struggled to make her brain pay attention.

"—go now." He was saying, and his words came to her as though from down a long, cavernous tunnel. "They'll be suspicious if we're not back—" Her hearing deserted her momentarily as she stared at him, willing the movements of his lips to form something coherent. Abruptly she could hear him again, and caught the last of what he said as he stood, "One of us will be back shortly to help you. Just stay calm, and try not to move."

If she could have found the strength to laugh at that she would have, but it eluded her. She watched through darkening vision as Rude turned, sliding his ever present sunglasses back into place over his eyes—ludicrous he wore them even at night—and beckoned Elena to follow. As the door closed behind them, as the sound of the deadbolt being slid home reached her ears she let her eyes fall shut, unable to withstand the combined strength of exhaustion and agony any longer; her last thoughts were those of amusement, because the dreaded scourge of Midgar, the notorious strike force of Rufus ShinRa, were doing their best to ensure she survived.

**.x.**

Sephiroth sat silently beside the slight, almost skeletal frame of Dr. Aurelius Hojo. Seated directly across from them on the other side of the large, oval table that was the focal point for the President's conference room were Rufus ShinRa and his right hand man, Zhao Tseng. Seated at the head, his considerable bulk causing his chair to incline slightly to the side, was the President himself. The tension in the room was almost tangible; most everyone in this room despised each other in one way or another. At the moment, however, all eyes were trained on the large video screen set into the north wall of the room and the footage it was showing.

It was a familiar sight to Sephiroth; this was the security footage from the night previous. He watched through lowered lashes as he confronted the woman who had attempted to kill him, as she struck back against him with a power to rival his own. As the video proceeded he regarded the others in the room; Rufus and Tseng's expressions were both unreadable, The President watched with a scowl, and Hojo wore a strange, eager smile. As the brief and incredibly violent brawl abruptly came to a finale with his would be assassin crashing through the window, the President turned off the video screen by pressing the associated button set into the table top. Still wearing his ferocious scowl, he asked of no one in particular, "Please answer me this—who the hell is that woman?"

"More to the point," Hojo interjected before the question could be answered, "_what_ is that woman?"

Attention was on the doctor now, and he continued. "She's obviously not human. A human would not be able to hold their own against Sephiroth. Or survive a fall from a thirty seventh story window."

Inwardly, Sephiroth bristled at this; his pride had been damaged by this latest …incident … even more than his body had been. It was Tseng who spoke next, his words measuring. "Wouldn't it be more prudent, Doctor, to be concerned with who she's working for? There's already been one attempt on the General's life—"

"Which failed," Hojo interrupted, a slight sneer twisting his thin lips.

"Barely," Rufus said then, smiling unpleasantly in the direction of the doctor.

This angered Hojo, which had undoubtedly been the Vice President's goal. "A shot such as that would have killed a mortal man! And yet Sephiroth is here, at my side—"

"Alive and well, yes I know, Hojo." Rufus' smile had faded, and as he reclined in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest. "Which brings the question to mind of what exactly will kill the dear General. Pardon my morbid curiosity," he said with a nod in Sephiroth's direction, "But I don't doubt you've wondered that yourself."

Sephiroth flashed his own tight lipped smile. "It has crossed my mind."

"What I want to know," the President cut in, his irritation at the subtle squabbling of his underlings prominent, "is who she is, and why she tried to kill the General. Surely, _son_," he said, and that one word dripped with malicious intent, "your Turks were able to unearth something about her?"

"We've found nothing." Tseng replied, meeting the dour glare of the President with his own impassive and unflinching gaze.

The noise the President made was a rude one; Hojo said then, "I want her in my lab. I need to know what she is. I can use her," he leaned closer to the President, his tone obsequiously wheedling. "No mere mortal has that strength."

The President considered for only a moment. "So be it. Dispatch who you will to hunt her down and bring her in. Rufus … have your Turks searching high and low. I want her found sooner rather than later."

"Unharmed," Hojo added.

"Fine. Unharmed. Any information is to be brought to me immediately. Am I understood?" The President cast his gaze around all those present and was apparently satisfied by their nods or murmurs of assent.

Sensing a dismissal, Sephiroth spoke up, "I would like to head this search."

"Of course you would," The President said, unruffled by this request. "And you will. I trust you more than my son's lackeys anyways. You're in command, General. Assemble whatever teams you want."

Sephiroth nodded, noting with a quick glance the expression of pure, unadulterated hatred that passed over Rufus' face at his father's blunt barb and simultaneously the way Tseng's expression never altered from its calm and unperturbed mask. Without another word the President stood, and as one the rest of them rose as well to disperse, heading back to their respective offices or duties. Hojo remained behind to speak with the President; Sephiroth contemplated lingering to eavesdrop, to discover just what the doctor wanted his would be assassin for, although he had a suspicion; instead he headed for the elevator, for his next destination would be the SOLDIER barracks. He was taking nothing but the best of officers along on this excursion.

**.x.**

The Ancient ones spoke to her as she drifted, quiet voices murmuring, reassuring, letting her know that she would recover, that the pain would soon pass. Aware only of existing, their words flowed over her, soothing, and for once she could not resent them. For a time even their presence left her, and she became alone as she ever was in the grips of a powerful healing slumber.

Long hours she spent thus, awaking only to lapse again into sleep unavoidable. Sometimes there were other people in the room; she recognized Tseng, Rude and even Rufus upon one occasion. Their voices made no sense to her—garbled echoes and noises she couldn't comprehend. At times water would be forced passed her lips, and she would swallow it numbly, gladly. The sensation of hands on her body would partially rouse her at other intervals, but she knew they were merely inspecting the extent of the damage to her body, and so she would slip away again, knowing she was secure. When finally she became fully awake, able to blink and focus on the wood paneled ceiling above her without her vision blurring and feeling the weariness that had rode her for so long fade somewhat, the first thing she wondered was how much time had passed. She must have voiced her question, for an answer came unexpected from the right of where she lay. "Two days."

She turned her head carefully, feeling the reluctance of her muscles to move but little in the way of pain. Tseng was seated in an armchair on the other side of the small suite, one leg draped carelessly across the other and hands clasped across his chest. He smiled as he met her eyes. "How do you feel?"

She took a moment to consider, stretching her entire body slightly, slowly, to try and pinpoint the small aches and stings that still remained. "Not bad, considering," she replied in a voice slightly hoarse.

"Good." The leader of the Turks stood then, walking a line to the door and then pacing back. "You realize you've set a new standard for yourself—falling from some thirty floors and surviving."

"I don't recommend trying it," she replied, easing up into a sitting position and marveling at how little she hurt.

Tseng had leaned back against an iron barred window sill and was watching her now intently. "You ran an amazing fever for a day and a half. Your skin was so hot it hurt to touch. The bones in your lower leg were fractured and all of your ribs broken, but you are now almost completely healed. Would you mind telling me how you do it?"

She smiled a little at that and answered honestly, "I don't really know."

"I figured as much." He pushed away from the window and moved to the small table that stood in the kitchen area of the suite, indicating the two folders which were stacked one upon the other. "We couldn't find all the missing papers, but most we retrieved. I do hope these prove informative to you."

Silent for a moment, recalling the last events before she'd fallen, she asked, "Who is Vincent Valentine?"

"Ah," Tseng said, and remained quiet for a time after that, staring down at the folders as if considering the best way to answer. "He is—was—my predecessor, of sorts."

"He was a Turk?"

"Yes and no. From what I've been able to gather, he was the first of Hojo's genetic experimentations. For a short while he served Rufus as we do."

"And then?" Aeris prompted as he paused, lost in thought.

"It's a complicated story, and I imagine his file will tell you everything you wish to know. Which brings me to the reason I'm here. If you wish to truly know what's been done to Sephiroth, Rufus suggests you seek out Mr. Valentine in person and question him."

"Why?"

"Again, it's a long and complicated story, suffice to say that aside from being my predecessor, Mr. Valentine also precedes the General himself—in a manner."

"And where can I find him?"

"You've already been there," Tseng said, moving to stand before the door. "Rufus has agreed to aid you during your search for information; two blocks north of here you'll find transportation waiting for you; a black four door car with triple 4 in the license plate. These," he said, tossing something which jingled in her direction, "are the keys. Get out of the city, take the ferry across the river, and get yourself to Nibelheim. Revisit the mansion, and this time do a careful search of the basement. He's down there somewhere, or at least that's his last known location."

"In the car," he continued, "you'll find one of our PHS systems; it's a private line, used only by the Turks and Rufus. We'll be keeping in touch with you. Which brings me to armament. There are several things I think you'll like in the cabinet over there," he pointed to a black wall closet in the far wall, "I had them brought in yesterday. If there's anything else you need, I'm sure you know of places where they can be found."

Absorbing all she'd just been told, she said quietly, "Thank you, Tseng."

His smile was small and genuine. "You're welcome. Now if you'll excuse me, duty calls. I'll be in touch."

She nodded at him as he opened the door and slid through, closing it firmly behind him. It was another moment before she stood, testing her body to see how much it would complain and finding herself pleasantly surprised. Although she'd never before been injured to such a great extent, it never ceased to amaze her how well her body could handle damage and how quickly it would heal. A great deal of that, she knew, was attributed to her connection with the Ancient ones, but it was remarkable nonetheless. Although, she thought dryly, wincing as she extended her arm and felt a sharp ache in her shoulder, she wouldn't be taking long falls from high windows any time in the near future merely to discern how much damage she could take.

The voices were back again, their quiet words and sounds serving to soothe rather than irritate. She felt newly resolved now that she knew she had Rufus' full support in this endeavor, and it was with grim determination that she set strode to the cabinet to arm herself once more.

There was more than one way to bring down a giant, after all.


	9. IX

**.9.**

Aeris arrived back in Nibelheim three days later. Inside the car Tseng had left for her was a plane ticket, first class, to the Golden Saucer in the Middle Western continent. Along with the ticket were credit cards with an impressive limit all bearing the name Ris Borough, an additional change of clothing—almost identical to the garments she currently wore that were in a sad state from her fall—and credentials for Ris Borough, all of them giving her considerable influential standing. What amused her the most about these was the identification card with a fake but startlingly accurate photo of herself. Beside her unsmiling visage was the ShinRa corporate logo, and the words beneath stated that she was a "Level 1 Appropriations and Policy Enactor". In plain terms, she was now a temporary member of the Turks.

Being one, she discovered over the course of her short journey, had its definite benefits. One look at her new ID made people, it seemed, nervous. She'd forgone Tseng's advice about getting out of the city and had instead headed directly to Midgar's international airport, where after flashing her credentials to the right people she'd been almost instantly ushered into the first class coach of what turned out to be one of ShinRa's private jets. The flight passed with not a single living soul—other than the flight attendant—setting foot inside. Her reasons for not leaving the city as Tseng had suggested were simple: ShinRa would be flexing every muscle it could in order to locate her. They would not be expecting her to have the same level of clearance as the Turks and therefore using their methods of transportation in order to flee. Or so she hoped. But upon disembarking and entering the Golden Saucer proper, she passed through the security checkpoints without hassle and was told to "have a nice stay" by several guards and employees that caught sight of her new ID.

She headed immediately for Nibelheim, renting a buggy as well as buying some provisions with the credit provided to her by the Turks. She'd changed before leaving Midgar into the new clothing, finding the ensemble—worked, pliable dark leather with blacked out buckles lining the arms, legs and waist to which all manners of holsters and sheaths could be affixed—to be satisfactory. Before she'd left the safe house she'd done as Tseng suggested and set about arming herself. He'd been right—the wall closet housed many things she liked. She took from the small armory a military issue sniper rifle as a replacement for the one she'd left in Nibelheim as well as a 12 gauge tactical shotgun with a quick load mechanism. The semiautomatic handguns she'd brought into ShinRa Inc. headquarters hadn't survived the fall very well, and so she took a new set from the closet—both were 9 millimetre and black in color. Like the handguns, the blade she wore in a sheath along her spine hadn't fared well after her dive from thirty-plus floors. She took a replacement 12 inch blade, which was longer than what she preferred but was still better than nothing; her other weapons were still intact. Once she'd finalized her selection, she chose appropriate holsters and carrying cases and made sure she'd secured a sufficient amount of ammunition before leaving the safe house. She'd been mildly concerned that boarding a plane with that much firepower would be an issue, but she'd also banked on the fact that her new identity—Ris Borough the Turk—would give her greater allowances, and she had been correct. The airport officials and security hadn't even batted an eye at the arsenal she brought with her through the checkpoints, instead acting as though her luggage consisted of common toiletries and nothing more.

It wasn't a long drive to Nibelheim, but she went out of her way to avoid main roadways, instead taking side roads and paths made for things other than vehicles. It was early evening when she arrived once more in the small town; she parked the buggy a kilometre from the town proper, concealing it as best she could within a large copse of trees, and walked the rest of the way. The mansion was the most prominent part of the town, looming above the rest of the buildings, casting an ominous shadow in the coming dusk and reminding her unpleasantly of how badly she had failed in her attempt to defeat Sephiroth. She entered the town just as the sun set and the streetlights flickered to life. The streets weren't deserted, but she still made her way through side paths and alleys, knowing that after the earlier disaster there was more than likely an increased ShinRa presence somewhere in town. She knew that her battle with Sephiroth on the thirty-seventh floor had been caught on tape—she'd seen the security cameras. Her face was now known and anonymity was no longer in her favour, which was unfortunate; it was easier, far easier, to do what she had to do as an unknown.

There was, as she'd expected, security posted at the entrance to the mansion; a pair of blue uniformed guards stood on either side of the door, their rifles shouldered and their voices carrying softly in the still of dusk as they conversed with each other. As she'd passed through town she'd caught sight of other members of ShinRa's military as well, walking two abreast in the streets. Her time here, it seemed, was going to have to be spent in the quickest and most cautious manner possible. She ghosted around the mansion perimeter, sticking within the shadows of the forest and weaving throughout the scattered trees and over fallen logs with a stealth made intrinsic by her connection with the Ancient ones. The backside of the mansion was devoid of any _ShinRa_ presence, but it was still with great wariness that slipped forth from the forest and approached the building. The main floor had an abundance of windows, and a great deal of them looked out upon the forests that surrounded both the village and the mountains that loomed so imposing in the distance; Aeris approached one of the windows in a crouching crawl, keeping low to the ground. The window itself was no more than the shattered remnants of a pane, jagged fingers of glass still attached to the sill. Carefully Aeris brushed these shards aside, muffling the gentle tinkling they made with her gloved hands, before she gripped the top of the frame and hoisted herself through. She became absolutely still once inside, poised in a ready crouch on the sill as she listened with all intentness for any sign that her entrance had been noticed. Only heavy stillness met her ears, and after another moment she slipped down from the sill and landed softly on her feet.

She was in the far corner of the mansion's expansive foyer, beneath the square spiral of the staircase that led first to a large landing and then to the second floor. Before beginning to move she checked her arsenal—she was armed with the shotgun in a holster strapped tight against her right thigh and the semiautomatics at her hips, having forgone any other weapons and leaving them locked securely in the buggy. Luck prevailing, she would have no use for firepower, but she knew better than to trust something as fickle as luck. It was then that Aeris began to move in a quick, purposeful tread that led her out into the open before taking her up the stairs. She paused at intervals, listening but able only to hear quiet traces of the guards outside the main door. When she reached the second floor she began her search in earnest, moving from room to room in an attempt to find the entrance to the basement. It was in the north-easternmost room where she found it; after staring at for long moments at a wall that curved outwards slightly she saw the faint outline of the door. It took her only minutes after that to locate the hidden catch, and the door slid open with a rumble that told of many years of since its last use. Aeris moved out of the room and to the landing to see if the opening of the door had attracted attention, but like before all was silent within the mansion, and so she returned to the entrance she had just found.

The wall had been curved, she discovered, because it housed within it a spiral staircase that descended down into darkened depths of which the bottom she could not see. From an inner pocket she withdrew a light stick; after shaking it and cracking the inner tube she stepped through the door and held it aloft in order to better illuminate the hidden passage. The yellow light showed that the staircase was in a bad state of disrepair—the wooden steps were broken in places and missing entirely in others. Even with the light she could see nothing of the bottom, and after a moment of deliberation she began to move carefully downwards. The going was almost painfully slow as she found her way one step at a time, unwilling to forego caution and wind up plunging however far it was to the bottom; one big fall was, she mused with grim humor, enough to last her a lifetime. By the time she stepped off the last stair onto a thick stone floor that glistened with moist moss she had lost all track of time and could only guess how long the journey from the top floor of the mansion to its basement had taken her.

She stood now within a corridor made entirely of stone blocks. Thick wooden beams ran the width of the ceiling, and wide, elaborate spider webs made heavy with dust draped from them in almost every corner. Aeris began forward slowly, holding the light stick out before her so that her path was revealed somewhat. The air was heavy, dank and cold, and there were other scents within that she couldn't place. After a few minutes, her path had brought her to a fork. To the left there was a plain wooden door set into the corridor wall and to the right an open archway that led to a room entirely cloaked in shadow. She opted to take the left path, hand closing around the badly rusted knob of the door and turning it. The door itself refused to open without assistance, and so after several moments of pushing she stepped back and delivered a quick, fierce kick. The door flew inwards with the screech of hinges rendered useless by time, and holding the light stick aloft she stepped into the room beyond. It was very small and barren, but for one single thing: a coffin lay atop a waist-high stone slab, the polished mahogany of the wood gleaming in the unnatural yellow light. And Aeris knew immediately what lay within—the Ancient ones, who had been for the most part silent since she'd entered the mansion, were now swirling softly, telling her that something alive was housed in this room. She took hold of the lid, fingers sliding a bit over the smooth surface, and lifted only to find it was much heavier than she'd anticipated. She wedged the light stick in a crack between two stones in the wall and then gripped the lid with two hands and heaved upwards. It came open suddenly and silently, and she caught a glimpse of red and black within before, in a blur of movement, something caught her by the throat.

Eyes were staring directly into her own, devoid of anything recognizable, and even in the artificial light she could tell they were an unusual crimson color. The fingers wrapped around her neck were not made of flesh and bone and were in fact metal that glinted bronze; she could feel in them a strength not human, and so she said slowly in a voice made thin by the grip on her throat, "I'm not a threat."

No expression altered the face before hers with skin so pale it almost glowed, but something flickered in the depths of the strange eyes. Slowly the hold on her loosened, the metallic hand falling away, and she took the two steps she needed to be safely out of reach before studying the man she was certain to be Vincent Valentine. Upon the opening of the coffin he had shifted with a speed that rivalled her own so that he was upright on one knee, affording him better leverage when he'd caught hold of her. He wore clothing similar to her own, dark leather with straps and buckles to attach weapon sheaths and holsters to. A red cloak with a high, wide collar covered both shoulders, fell down his back and pooled over the side of the coffin, tattered and torn at the end. A band of red cloth decorated his brow, and black hair of different lengths, the longest reaching the middle of his back, fell around his face and shoulders. The dossier she had appropriated from ShinRa had contained pictures of him, but he had looked much different in them, clad in dark blue business suits with his hair much shorter. The face—as implacable as the stone surrounding them—was exactly the same, which was somewhat strange considering the dossier had been compiled some twenty years earlier.

She realized a moment later that nothing had changed about Vincent Valentine during the twenty years since last he'd been in ShinRa's employee. His physical form was identical to what it had been back then, and Aeris recalled all she'd read in the folder while on the plane from Midgar. Though the information within had been largely incomplete, she had been able to glean that Valentine had undergone a process where he was exposed to cells from what the files referred to as "the entity" and which Aeris knew to be Jenova. Valentine's exposure was reported to be the first experimental trial, and according to what she had read, had been deemed a failure. In the years that followed, the process must have been perfected and honed, for Sephiroth was a testament to that fact …

She shook her head slightly, bringing herself back from the stored information in her mind. The man before her had remained silent during her inspection, unblinking eyes regarding her in much the same manner. She said then, "Vincent Valentine?"

When he spoke, his voice—deep and sonorous—was husky as though unused for a very long time. "I've been known as such, yes." He paused, a slight furrow appearing between his dark brows. "Who asks?"

"Call me Aeris."

"That name is not familiar."

"It wouldn't be. We've never met before." She watched as he frowned, and the expression itself was faint, as though it was an echo of something he had once been able to do completely.

"You came upon me by chance?"

"No," she said, and his face smoothed abruptly until it was completely unreadable again. She knew instinctively that her reply had made him suspicious. "Rufus ShinRa suggested I find you," she told him carefully.

One of his eyebrows lifted a miniscule difference and he tilted his head, a lock of his dark hair obscuring one eye. "Rufus would not do such a thing lightly." He fell silent, gaze turning inward as though considering something. Aeris waited patiently for him to reach whatever decision it was he was currently debating. Finally he continued, "Why have you come?"

She said without preamble, "I need to know the specifics of what was done to you."

"Done to me?" He echoed. The fingers of his metal hand, draped across his knee, flexed slightly. "It was my damnation. My punishment, if you will, for trying to stop something that could not be stopped." His eyes had centered on the floor, but she knew he was seeing something in memory, some ghost from the past. He asked without looking at her, "Why would you need to know such things?"

She contemplated only for a moment lying to him, but decided truth would serve her best; she had the distinct feeling that he would know a lie, regardless. "Because I've been sent to kill Sephiroth, and in order to do so I need to know exactly what he is."

His eyes flicked to her then, and she read in them genuine surprise. "That is a task not easily done."

Her smile was unhappy. "So I've noticed."

"You have already tried." He said, reading her expression.

"A bullet through the heart."

"And he survived." It was more statement than question, and when she nodded it was he that smiled, a faint curving of the lips that was mirthless. When he spoke next his voice was soft, and she had the sense he spoke mostly to himself. "So Hojo's ultimate experiment was a success, after all …"

"What was done to him—was it similar to what was done to you?"

He made a sound that could have been a laugh and shook his head but didn't answer her question. Instead he stared hard at her for a moment, as though attempting to discern whether or not to take her claim seriously. He rose to his feet then and stepped down out of the coffin easily, saying only, "Come," as he brushed past her. After hastily grabbing the light stick, she turned and followed him out of the small room back out into the corridor and into the other room through the archway. The yellow light she held revealed that they stood now in what appeared to be a makeshift laboratory; equipment similar to that she had seen in the ShinRa lab stood in two opposite corners, covered in thick layers of dust and grime. A large wooden desk was situated between them, and its surface was almost entirely covered by a litter of books and papers made brittle and faded from the passage of time. There was a passage in the wall opposite the desk that led to another small room; the passage was lined completely with shelves upon shelves of books, and the shelves lined the walls of the other room, as well. There was an archaic lantern lying on its side on the floor near the archway they had entered through, and as Aeris looked about their surroundings Vincent righted it and lit the wick with a spark of flame that issued forth from one gloved fingertip. Lifting the lantern, he came to stand beside Aeris, and pointed with his metal hand to a man-sized, cylindrical glass tank behind the desk.

"That," he said, his quiet voice almost too loud in the heavy stillness that occupied the area in which they stood, "is how I became something other than a man."

Aeris said nothing but approached the tank, noting how there were various cables, hoses and lines running from it to other pieces of equipment she couldn't identify. There were monitors set into a control panel, and some of them she recognized as heart rate and breathing gauges. As she inspected the device, Vincent began to speak again.

"After my … misconduct, I was subdued and brought here. Hojo needed a subject to which he could conduct his experiments on, and there were not many in the way of volunteers. My disgrace made me an unwilling candidate, and there was an enmity between us that made him most eager to proceed with me as a subject."

Hearing and recognizing the distant anger in his voice, Aeris moved to the desk and perched on an uncluttered corner, listening with rapt attention as the man before her continued to speak. He took her place at the tank, running a metal finger down one side, tracing a path through the accumulation of dust. "It was realized that Professor Gast's discovery from the geological stratum, that which they called Jenova, carried within its being astounding physical and mental attributes. While Gast was content merely to observe and study, Hojo wanted to dissect and identify, to discern the entire workings of the creature. When Gast disappeared, Hojo became head of ShinRa's research facilities, and the President sanctioned further and more explorative research of Jenova. He was fascinated with the possibilities presented when considering a merger of mortal and immortal material—more specifically, what would occur should a human be exposed to the essence of Jenova."

Aeris watched as Vincent paced a path to another tank, this one smaller in size. "Hojo's wife was also a scientist under ShinRa employ, and like him she too worked on the Jenova Project. She became pregnant not long after Gast's disappearance, and Hojo took this occurrence as an opportunity to do what he had theorized about for so long. His wife was routinely injected with material from Jenova; it was thought the developing child would be directly affected by this. And when the child was born, Hojo's experiments were revealed to have succeeded beyond anyone's wildest dreams …"

"Sephiroth," Aeris whispered, aghast despite herself. She had known Sephiroth was tainted by Jenova, but the Ancients had been unable—or perhaps unwilling—to reveal exactly how he had become so.

Vincent nodded. "Yes."

"And you?"

The ghost of a sardonic smile momentarily flickered about his lips. "As I said earlier, my transformation was done as punishment. My life as a Turk had me dealing frequently with Hojo and the rest of his scientists, and so it was I met and came to care for his wife, Lucrezia. Whether my affection was returned I … do not know. But when Hojo began to inject her with Jenova cells, against her will, I stepped in to protest. My objections were ignored, of course, and Lucrezia herself loved her husband too much to protest. And so for my disobedience I was brought here and put under the unkind ministrations of the doctor … I was put in that tank and submerged in a fluidic mixture composed of the essence of mako and Jenova cells for a very long time. I cannot even tell you how long. The end product," He said, glancing at her and lifting his metal hand, "you see before you now."

"Are you—?" Aeris began to ask; anticipating her question, he interrupted her with the answer.

"Invulnerable, like Sephiroth? No. My abilities and senses are heightened far beyond those I had as a mortal man, but I can still be injured and, I suspect, even killed. I believe Sephiroth's resilience stems from the fact that he was exposed and tainted with Jenova when he was nothing more than a fetus. He is, in essence, comprised almost completely of Jenova."

Aeris was silent a short while, milling through these new bits of information. Even the Ancients had been unable to destroy the original form of Jenova—in the end they dismembered the creature and confined the pieces. How then was she to kill what was essentially the child of Jenova?

As though aware of what she was thinking, Vincent said, "If you meant what you said earlier—that you meant to kill Sephiroth—then I offer this: it was surmised by Hojo before he began his experiments that anything greatly exposed to Jenova would only maintain its strength if Jenova itself were stable and alive. The relationship itself would be something like that of host and parasite—if Jenova were to falter then the cells housed within the test subject would falter as well, weakening it."

"How," Aeris asked, speaking in part to herself, "would one kill Jenova?"

"That is something, I'm afraid, I do not know the answer to. But perhaps a hint lies within your heritage?"

Her eyes, which had been fixed unseeing on the ground before her, shot to his face. There was a something speculative in his regard, and he went on. "You are not human, no more so than I. It is an easy thing for me to see. There were rumors after Gast's disappearance that he had found one of the Ancients of legend, a sole surviving woman of that race …"

"My mother."

"I thought such. Though I can sense many things, I have never before come across anything like what you possess. If the stories were at all true, then was it not the Ancients that first defeated Jenova?"

"Defeated, yes, but were unable to eradicate."

"A dilemma," he said, and opened his mouth to say something further but abruptly stopped, eyes rolling skyward. A moment later he looked at her and she saw the almost unnoticeable change in his expression.

"We will not be alone much longer. Men are coming, many of them, and they are armed."

"ShinRa," Aeris said, and swore.

"I expect so." Even as he said this she heard from beyond the open archway the sound of many booted feet pounding down the stairs, heard the shouted commands and the crackle of radio static. Vincent walked to the arch and stood before it, glancing back at her with a raised eyebrow. "It has been a long time since I've tested my mettle against men with guns. I suppose I should thank you for the opportunity to do so again."

"I'm sorry," she said with feeling, sliding off the desk and removing the semiautomatics from their holsters.

"Do not be." He said, and withdrew from within the folds of his cloak a shotgun that looked almost antique in its appearance. "If ever there were a cause I would deem worthy of such an encounter, it would be this."

When he stepped out to meet the oncoming rush, she was right behind him.


	10. X

**.10.**

Vincent Valentine soon confirmed Aeris' suspicion that he was as capable of defending himself as was she. As the ShinRa forces swept down the stone hall towards them he was absolutely still with his weapon—a unique three barreled shotgun—cradled in both hands. As the first among the blue uniformed ShinRa ranks opened fire, however, the former Turk exploded into action. He leapt ahead and with an incredibly lithe twisting of the body managed to put himself well beyond the line of fire. He was moving again an instant later, the crimson swirling of his cape the only mark of his inhumanly swift movements as he brought the shotgun up to bear and fired off all his rounds, reloaded, and began again.

Aeris had dropped to one knee, still within the shadow of the doorway and opting to forego her semiautomatics in favor of something with more stopping power. Ahead of her Valentine swiftly wove throughout the now scattered ranks of the enemy, firing with speed and accuracy that was startling. She slid the shotgun free of its holster, shucked a shell into place and aimed all in one breath; the nearest target was rushing directly for her, his own finger squeezing back on the trigger of his automatic rifle. She fired and the shot took him dead center in the chest; the spray from his weapon as he stumbled and fell had her diving to the side to avoid being hit. Coming up again in a quick roll Aeris managed to get off three more shots, felling one more man and sending another staggering through the door that Valentine had only just recently been entombed behind. She reloaded quickly, sliding the shells into the underside of the barrel with deft fingers, and came to her feet before realizing that there was no longer any commotion—suddenly all had become still.

"There are more above." Vincent said, shouldering his shotgun and standing in the midst of bodies. Aeris did a swift mental count; more than ten men had just been killed in under a minute …

"This is my fight," she told him, and carefully stepped over the bodies while re-holstering the shotgun. "I didn't mean to drag you into this."

"Yet here I am, regardless." He caught her arm as she walked past him. "Perhaps I've dwelt here far too long. I would aid you in your mission, if you'll allow it."

Surprised, she stared at him for a long moment before nodding. "Alright. I've got a buggy parked in the forest northwest of here. We can get ahold of Tseng once we're there …" she trailed off, thoughts becoming grim.

"Was it he that betrayed your presence here?" Vincent asked, knowing what she was thinking.

"No." She said firmly. "Not Tseng—"

"—_subdued the target? I repeat, has target been subdued?" _The radio on the corpse closest to Aeris suddenly exploded to life, reminding them both that this ordeal was not yet over. And then footsteps, though faint, could be heard pounding over the old wooden floors of the mansion so far above. The two of them exchanged a glance before beginning to move, Aeris breaking into a run and Vincent following close behind. Roughly halfway up the rickety spiral staircase they encountered three more _ShinRa_ officers; Aeris made quick work of the first two with one semiautomatic, and the third slumped down the stairs bearing three large holes in his chest as testament to Vincent's accuracy. They increased their speed, racing as fast as they could over the stairs and taking heed not to plummet through the empty spaces on their way up. By the time they'd reached the top the steady, rhythmic thunder of a helicopter was clearly audible from somewhere outside. Aeris looked from the door leading to the landing to the window facing the mountains and made her choice; shielding her face with both arms she ran for the window and leapt through, curling to minimize the impact. The glass shattered and she landed in an awkward crouch, coming to her feet and turning to see Vincent follow her path. His landing seemed effortless, and he unfolded from his crouch with a fluidic movement before turning to her. Whatever he was about to say was lost as suddenly the roar of the helicopter became immediate; suddenly they were both bathed in the harsh, unrelenting glare of a search light that was effective even in the not yet full dark.

"_Throw down your weapons and surrender_!" An amplified voice blared from the helicopter as it circled them. The wind from the rotating blades was ferocious, and both Aeris and Vincent had to brace themselves against it. _"Failure to comply will result in immediate termination. You are surrounded. Throw down your weapons!"_

Aeris, one arm raised to her eyes in an effort to spare them the assault of the search light, was furiously calculating their next course of action. Her heaviest source of firepower was the shotgun, but it wouldn't be enough to take down the helicopter … and if they didn't do something soon, they'd be surrounded …

"Go!" Vincent shouted, and she turned her face to him. His hair, propelled by the fierce wind, was whipping past his face and partially obscuring it, but she was still able to read his intent clearly in his eyes. His shotgun was still held loosely in his flesh and blood hand, and as she nodded he slowly brought it up to bear. The voice from the helicopter brayed a sudden warning; Aeris whirled and bolted, utilizing all her speed to race beyond the search light's large radius. In a heartbeat she had reached the tree line bordering the town, but she stopped and turned before crossing over, looking back at her newest ally. He stood still within the glare of the helicopter's light, head tilted back and eyes fixed on the vehicle, red cape fluttering out wildly behind him. Suddenly there was gunfire from the helicopter, but Vincent vanished from the spot he had been standing. Just barely was Aeris able to track his movement, and she watched with newfound appreciation as the man who had been a Turk leapt sideways and used the wall of the mansion for leverage to propel himself even further into the air. He caught hold of the helicopter's landing bar and swung himself up and around until he was perched tenuously upon the metal; he maintained his position easily as he fired through the open hatch. The chopper began to buck and tilt, whether in an attempt to dislodge Vincent or because the pilot had been wounded Aeris was unsure. Suddenly the helicopter shot upwards and the search light died, leaving Nibelheim in abrupt darkness. Aeris stared after the chopper which was still ascending and hesitated only a moment before resolutely turning back to the tree line; Vincent had proven he was more than capable of looking after himself …

She saw the movement to the side an instant too late—her hands flew to the grips of her handguns just as another voice, this one emanating from only several feet away, rang out, "Do. Not. _Move!_"

She saw them then, two forms standing just beneath the overhang of the mansion's roof. Not heeding the warning she slipped the guns free of their holsters and was unexpectedly rewarded with pain as the figure on the right, the one that had spoken, opened fire. The bullet punctured her shoulder and her left arm was immediately numbed; the gun fell from her hand to the ground. She realized her mistake even as she swore vehemently in surprise—this was no mere member of _ShinRa_'s military force, which was why he was faster than she had thought he would be …

"Remember me?" The speaker asked casually, raising his voice to be heard over the retreating thunder of the chopper, and this time when Aeris looked upon the two almost silhouetted forms she recognized them. It was the dark haired SOLDIER she had wounded the last time she'd been in Nibelheim, and beside him was his blonde ShinRa officer friend. As Aeris attempted to shrug her shoulder in order to assess the damage she let loose a low hiss of pain, and even in the growing dark she could see the satisfied, vindictive smile that crossed the SOLDIER's face. "Now," he called out, "we're even."

She didn't respond, instead eyeing the new combatants carefully. From within Nibelheim proper came the sounds of more units mobilizing: the pounding of booted feet on cobblestone, the blaring static from personal radios, the sounds of weapons being locked and loaded. The wound in her shoulder wasn't debilitating—yet. Even one armed she could still wield the other handgun and even the shotgun, but the SOLDIER could now pose a threat. His mako enhancement made him stronger and swifter than most, though his abilities were nowhere near the levels hers were. Her eyes flicked to the side—as she'd thought, the blonde officer had trained his rifle directly over her heart. Both men began to move closer, one careful step at a time.

"Let's do this the easy way, okay?" The SOLDIER said when he and his companion came to a halt only a few paces away, his tone almost placating. "You know there's no way out of this."

"You said that last time," Aeris replied with a cold smile.

"Last time," the SOLDIER said slowly, anger at her glib remark evident, "you weren't injured. Drop the gun."

She let the other semiautomatic fall from her hand, and it clattered softly to the ground at her feet. Adopting the front of compliance would allow her more time to formulate a way out of this, but she was more than aware that the chances of her escaping without further injury were slim. Killing them was an option, but more dangerous than just attempting escape.

"Get on your knees," the SOLDIER ordered. "Arms behind your head."

She did as he directed, sinking down on the grass and lacing her hands together behind her head while gritting her teeth as the movement further aggravated her already agonized shoulder. She stared at them both without expression, and without removing his eyes from hers the SOLDIER said to his companion, "Cloud, see if she's packing any more guns."

The blonde officer nodded and approached her slowly, circling around her, one foot over the other, careful to keep her in his line of sight always. He stopped before her, off to one side so that the SOLDIER's line of fire remained clear. "Don't move," the one called Cloud said in an even, threatening voice. Acutely aware of the muzzle of his automatic rifle pointed directly at her face, Aeris nodded once. He got down on one knee, keeping his weapon trained on her one handed, and reached for her shotgun, pulling it free from the thigh holster and tossing it to the side. Getting to his feet again, he moved around behind her, checking her form for the rest of her arsenal. She remained quiet and still, waiting for when next he was in arm's reach. If she could catch hold of him and use him as a shield, she was positive she could get the SOLDIER to disarm. Tensing, she watched out of the corner of her eye as the officer began to circle around in front of her once again—

A sound split the air, the violent reverberation of an explosion. The night sky above Nibelheim was suddenly illuminated as a fireball appeared high in the air. And as the glow died another sound grew, a tremendous scream of twisting metal and the crackle and roar of flames. Aeris got to her feet and threw herself to the side, knowing what was coming; the SOLDIER's attention, momentarily diverted by the explosion, jerked back to her and he fired too late at her retreating form. He was racing for her as suddenly the ground heaved and quaked; he fell and Aeris, lying on her back, lifted herself up to see the ShinRa mansion engulfed in flames with the scorched and battered body of the helicopter buried deep within its roof. The blonde officer had been knocked flying by the impact and was lying motionless quite some distance away. The SOLDIER, having gotten quickly to his feet, had spared the now demolished mansion only one glance before turning his attention back to Aeris, rising up and taking aim—

"Come," said a voice in her ear, and then there was an arm around her shoulders, propelling her forth. Her view of the SOLDIER was blocked by the torn, tattered fabric of Vincent's cape, and then she was running, assisted in large part by her newfound ally. Behind them gunfire joined the chaos of the helicopter wreckage, but they were already beyond reach. His speed was equal to that of hers, and they were out of Nibelheim, out of the forest, less than a minute later. They slowed after breaching the small copse of trees that bordered the town, Vincent removing his arm and stepping away.

"Is it serious?" He asked her as she lifted her right arm to assess the wound in the other shoulder.

"No," she said, but winced anyways as she probed it gently. The bullet would have to be removed, but she had no method of doing so here. Remembering the injuries she'd sustained after falling from the ShinRa building, she said with the ghost of an ironic smile, "I've survived worse."

Vincent didn't reply, his eyes on the now distant glow in the darkness that was Nibelheim. The flames from the mansion were evident even from here, rising above the treetops, reaching for the sky like flickering fingers of some ethereal, disembodied hand.

"Will you miss it?" She asked him then, for it had been for almost twenty years his home.

He shook his head. "No. Nothing lingered there but myself and memories better left forgotten." He turned his attention back to her. "Sephiroth was in the helicopter."

Her eyes widened slightly, "You're sure?"

"Positive. I have never sensed anything like that in a person before."

"He went down with the chopper?" She asked, but it was a redundant question; she already knew the answer.

"No. He jumped clear just before it went down." He gave her a moment to absorb this before going on, "We should continue on. They will send out search parties."

Aeris nodded, turned, and began to walk, covering the bullet wound with her hand as she did so. Vincent easily matched her stride, and together they traversed the gently rolling hills that led upwards into the thick forests that lined the Nibel Mountains. By the time they'd reached the buggy it was fully dark, and the quarter moon shone, a bright sliver, overhead. Aeris unlocked the vehicle and tossed the keys to Vincent, who took the driver's seat. As he started the buggy Aeris grabbed the PHS with her good hand, flipped it open and thumbed the button that would directly connect her to the Turks. It rang twice before it was answered, and she was greeted with only one word. "Tseng."

"There's been trouble." She said. "They found me here."

There was a momentary silence. "I've heard nothing about this."

"I didn't think so. They showed up maybe a half hour after I got here. Infantry, some officers and one SOLDIER. There was a helicopter, too, and the General was inside."

Tseng said one word softly in his native tongue; she didn't have to be familiar with the language to know it was a curse. He said nothing for a long pause, and so she said it for him, "You know what this means?"

"Yes." He sighed heavily. "We Turks have a traitor in our midst."


End file.
